Alone in the Ashes (15 page)

The circle of outlaws moved as if controlled by one mind. The outlaws were growling and snarling like the animals they were. They were shouting obscenities at the house and its occupants.

“Hold your fire!” Ben called, just loud enough for the kids to hear.

The bolts of the twin M-16's were pulled. The kids gripped the pistol grips, pressing the stocks against young shoulders, getting ready for the jar and slam of double-16's on full auto.

The circle drew nearer.

Ben noticed that Campo, West, Texas Red, and Cowboy Vic had stayed back, well out of conventional rifle range.

“True leaders of men,” Ben muttered.

He picked up his .30–06 and clicked it off safety, lifting the stock to his shoulder and sighting in one particularly ugly outlaw.

The part of the circle that had gathered at the rear of the old town had vanished into the ruins of the ghost town.

Ben smiled, thinking: Only a few more seconds before one of them takes that one last long step.

A hideous scream cut the air as an outlaw stepped into a mine shaft and went tumbling into eternity, howling as he fell.

Ben pulled the trigger and blew off a man's jaw. The man was flung backward, landing on his ass in the sand.

“Fire!” Ben yelled.

Twelve M-16's, all older models, all fully automatic, began singing their death songs, yammering and spitting out lead.

Ben was firing an AK-47 on full auto, the 7.62 ammo cutting great holes in the now-broken circle of outlaws.

A man stepped into a punji trap, the sharpened stake driven through his foot, trapping him on the sands. He howled and beat his fists on the ground, all the fight gone from him.

Ben let him howl.

Behind Ben, on the other end of the first floor, Rani was manning her twin 16's, the 16's jumping in their harness, the floor around her twinkling with brass.

Over the rattling and cracking of gunfire, the pinging of brass bouncing off the floor, Ben heard the faint screams of another man as he stepped onto the thin covering over a deep shaft. The man went howling into his frightened death.

The circle of outlaws broke, splintering like an egg shell, leaving a half-dozen men trapped on the porch, their hands slick with the gore from the bodies they were forced to climb over getting to the porch.

Ben dropped the empty AK and jerked up a sawed-off shotgun, an automatic that held nine three-inch magnums.

Ben cleared the porch of all living things, the shotgun roaring in his hands.

“Cease fire!” Ben yelled.

The house fell silent. Now, only the moaning and crying and cursing and screaming of the wounded outlaws could be heard.

“Sound off!” Ben called.

A couple of the kids had scratches and splinters from the wood barricades in front of them; all had sore shoulders from the pounding of the twin 16's, but again, against all odds, no one was seriously hurt.

The area surrounding the house was littered with the dead and dying. The screaming from men caught in the punji traps was now hoarse, more animal than human.

“Take the upstairs, Rani,” Ben said. “Tell the kids to go to the bathroom, get some water and food in them, and then you do the same. I'll look after things down here.”

Ben reloaded clips and checked his AK. He reloaded the sawed-off shotgun and then, with one eye toward the outside, he checked Rani's twin M-16's and reloaded some clips for her. When Rani returned from the upstairs, Ben went up and checked out the weapons, patting each young person on the shoulder, speaking calmly to them, complimenting them, and assuring them that it was almost over. Just hang in there, he told them.

“Will we get to go back to your people when this is over, Mr. Raines?” Kathy asked.

“You sure will, kids,” Ben told them. “And when you're there, you'll never have to be afraid again. And that's a promise.”

 

 

Jake Campo didn't want to admit it, but the first tentative fingers of fear were lightly touching him. It was not a feeling he liked. Fear was almost unknown to the man. He had had his way all his life; even back in grade school, he had taken whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. The laws of a liberal society being what they were—when there was a government, with laws (as silly as many of them were), many of them catering to the punk, the lawless, the bully—boys like Jake had a field day with other kids less inclined to bully.

Even when Jake had received three to five in prison for rape, he ran the joint (back when
joint
was jail and not something to smoke). Jake did that time (he was out in eighteen months) with ease. When he was charged with almost killing a man with his fists—he never did go to jail for that crime, the jails, at that time, being too crowded and federal judges not wanting to tax the sensitive criminal psyche—he began to have nothing but contempt for the legal system of America.

Jake wasn't alone in that contempt. Almost any law-abiding citizen with a modicum of intelligence felt nothing but contempt for America's legal system.

Jake looked at the house on the hill and knew, he
knew
, for the first time that he could remember, raw fear.

 

 

West sat on a broken down chair and rubbed his aching stump. Would the goddamn thing
ever
heal?

West hated Ben Raines. Loathed him. But he was afraid of Ben Raines. Scared to death of him. West wished they could just call this thing off and go on back to Tennessee. Jesus Christ! He couldn't get over the sight of those bodies piled around the house and on the porch. And Raines had booby-trapped the town, too. West shuddered at the thought of falling into one of those mine shafts.

God, what a way to die.

He bet there were snakes down there in them pits, too. Snakes and rats eatin' on the bodies.

“Shit!” he muttered.

 

 

Texas Red ran his fingers through his long red hair. He sat off by himself and engaged in, what was to him, heavy thinking.

This whole operation was screwed up. Everything about it was screwed up. But he wasn't gonna give up. No way.

If any of them did that, word would get around the whole southwest that they let one man, one woman, and a handful of kids kick the shit out of three or four hundred men. Couldn't let that happen.

“So,” Red muttered, “that only leaves us one choice. Kill them all.”

 

 

Crazy Cowboy Vic wasn't scared of Ben Raines. Cowboy Vic wasn't afraid of nothing. Cowboy Vic didn't have sense enough to be afraid of anybody. He grinned as he pulled at his crotch. Thought about all them young girls in the house. Smooth tight pussies. Vic liked to hear the girls holler when he hurt them. That's when he really got his rocks off. And Vic liked to kill. Didn't make no difference to Vic who or what it was. Human or animal. He liked to kill; liked to torture.

Far back as he could remember, he liked to torture animals. Skin them alive. Cut the paws off dogs and cats.

Of course his parents knew about his aberrations. Of course his parents didn't report him to the authorities. Victor was their darling little pride and joy.

Not even when Little Victor buried the neighbor's pet up to its neck and ran over it with a power mower did his parents report it. They concealed the fact. Heaven forbid anyone should learn they had a nut for a kid.

They thought they were doing Victor a favor by keeping quiet about his ... strange behavior.

There are a great many stupid parents in the world.

Vic slobbered on himself as he thought about the kids in the house. And Ben Raines. He'd like to torture Ben Raines. Make him holler.

Yeah! Good fun!

 

 

“I wonder what they're thinking?” Rani asked.

“A lot of them are thinking about quitting,” Ben told her. “But the majority of them know they can't quit. Word would get around that they were whipped by a handful of kids and one man and one woman. They can't allow that to happen. They have to try to kill us to shut our mouths.”

“We must have killed half of them,” she observed. “Or a lot of them have run away.”

“We've wasted quite a few. But you're right. A lot of them have hit the air.”

Ben sat eating a can of cold beans, washing it down with water from his canteen.

Rani looked at him, calmly eating amid the gore, and shook her head.

“Hungry?” Ben asked.

“No. How can you just sit there, with dead bodies all around us, and
eat?
”

“Because I'm hungry,” Ben answered simply.

“You know what I mean.”

Ben jerked his thumb toward the outside. “Because of them, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“I don't view them as human beings, Rani. It's very doubtful any of those dead men ever, in their entire lives, did one decent thing—even back when we had a civilization. They were thieves, bully boys, thugs, rapists, muggers, street slime, rednecks, white trash, racists—you name it. If they had their choice between stealing and working, they stole. They beat their wives and girlfriends and abused their kids. They cheated on their income tax—if they even bothered to file—and the rest of us paid for it. To a man, they considered themselves smarter than the law and above obeying the laws the rest of us lived by. They filled every cheap honky-tonk in the country whenever they had a few bucks in their pockets and were looking for trouble. Their idea of fun was stomping somebody's head in; usually somebody who just happened to come in for a quiet drink and hadn't bothered a soul. They were loud-mouthed, profane, obnoxious, ignorant, crude, and rude. And when they died, if the undertaker would shove a tube up their rectum and give them an enema, they could have been buried in a matchbox. I don't give any more thought to killing them than I would stepping on a roach or kicking a dried piece of dog shit off the sidewalk. That answer your question, dear?”

She looked at him for a long moment before speaking. “There is a lot of arrogance in you, Mr. Ben Raines. Are you aware of that?”

“A lot of people confuse a desire for order and discipline with arrogance, Rani. I went for a good many years in the Tri-States without firing a shot at anything other than a paper pop-up target. We who made up the Tri-States proved that a society totally void of crime is not only possible but very easy to attain.”

“By trading one type of fear for another, Ben?”

Ben smiled at that. “It's a funny thing, Rani. But in all my years, I've never been afraid of the cops. If one obeys the law, there is no need to be fearful of authority.”

She turned around, scanned her perimeter, and looked back at Ben. “And I bet you drove 55, too, didn't you, Ben?”

“Yes, I did. I didn't like it; thought it was a stupid law. But it was the law, so I obeyed it. I never got a ticket, either.”

She once more turned around, looking at the body-littered area around the house on the hill, overlooking the ghost town. With her back to Ben, she said, “You people in the Tri-States got a lot of negative publicity.”

“Yes, we did, Rani. Our system of justice was harsh. It was a one-mistake society. But no one went hungry in the Tri-States. Not one person. No one was denied proper medical care. Everybody had a job. The taxes were fair. We didn't allow huge corporations to swallow up the small farmer. We had damn few complaints from the people who chose to live in the Tri-States.”

“You people also had quick trials, too, Ben.”

“We sure did,” Ben said, giving his perimeter a once-over. “The legal profession, as you knew it, wasn't the same in Tri-States. But there again, I don't recall a single complaint from any legal resident of the Tri-States.”

She shook her head. “What's the point of arguing, Ben. It will never be again.”

He looked at her, surprise on his face. “Of course, it will be, Rani. Not as big as before. But it will be.”

“You really believe that, don't you, Ben? God, you're a dreamer, you know that?”

“If we don't put it back together, Rani, I firmly believe civilization will die.”

She looked around her and reached for her twin 16's. “If we don't start paying attention, Ben,
we're
going to die. Here they come again.”

This time the outlaws were much more cautious in their attack. They did not attempt to overwhelm the house by sheer numbers, electing to reach the crumbling buildings of the town and settle in.

“War of nerves,” Ben said. “They're going to try to wear us down.”

“Mr. Ben!” Jordy called in a whisper from upstairs. “Your radio is talking!”

On the second floor, Ben listened to his radio. The static was still there, but he was able to understand the transmission.

“This is Eagle One,” Ben said. “Repeat, please.”

“Eagle One, this is Captain Nolan. We're two hours away from your location. Colonel Gray is less than a day from your position. Our forward scouts have you in visual. Do you copy this, General?”

“I'm copying five by five, Captain. We can hold until you reach us.”

“Dysentery hit us hard, General. I'm at no more than half strength. How do you want me to launch my attack?”

“Get as close as you can and set up mortar teams. We're holed up in the big house overlooking the town.”

“Ten-four, General. Hang on.”

Ben winked at Rani. “Didn't I tell you to think positively?”

 

 

“I got a bad feelin' 'bout all this, Jake,” Texas Red said. “I think we're damned if we do, and damned if we don't. Know what I mean?”

Jake felt the same way. But before he could reply, one of his men raced to his side, sliding behind the old building.

“We're bein' watched, Jake!” he panted. “I've caught sunlight off field glasses to the northeast.” He pointed.

The three leaders (West was behind the lines, sitting it out by his van) looked. Jake grunted as he caught the glint of light off lenses.

“It don't make no difference,” Cowboy Vic said. “There can't be no more of them than there is of us. Right, Jake?”

Jake looked at the screwball. It was then he realized just how stupid the man appeared. He looked like a cross between Tom Mix, Gorgeous George, and the Rhinestone Cowboy. Fuckin' idiot!

“And I suppose you have a plan?” Jake said.

Before Vic could reply, Texas Red said, “I do. Get the hell out of here. We won't be losin' no face by doin' it. Not with Raines' Rebels breathin' down our necks.”

Jake nixed that. “Then, go, goddamnit. If you and your boys ain't got the balls for this, take off. And to hell with you!”

“You can count on me, Big Jake,” Cowboy Vic said.

“Wonderful,” Jake muttered.

“Think about it, Jake,” Texas Red said, not taking umbrage at Jake's anger. “Ben Raines ain't gonna stay holed up in there forever. Soon as his Rebs come—and they ain't far away—he'll be sprung. He'll stick around for awhile, then he'll hit the trail again. All we got to do is set up outposts on the three roads leading out of this place, then ambush the son of a bitch.”

Jake looked at the man. “For a person that's redheaded and ugly to boot, you got some sense. That there's a right nice plan. Let's do 'er. Tell the boys to fall back.”

“Damn, Ben!” Jordy called from the upstairs. “They's pullin' out. Shit!”

Rani laughed. “That's quite a little tiger you have there, Ben.”

“There's no back-up in him, that's for sure.” Ben lifted his binoculars and watched the outlaws begin their bugout.

T. S. Eliot came to Ben's mind. He muttered, “Not with a bang but with a whimper.”

“Did you say something, Ben?” Rani asked.

“A cold coming we had of it, just the worst time of the year.”

“What?”

Ben shook his head. “Nothing. Just recalling some verse from a long time ago.”

Ben again lifted his binoculars, watching the outlaws haul their asses. “Tell the kids to stand down, Rani. I think it's over.”

But it was not over. Not quite. Crouching in one of the old crumbling buildings, Crazy Cowboy Vic waited, slobber dribbling down his chin. He had refused to leave with the others. He was gonna get Ben Raines, and have all of them young cunts for hisself. And when that was done, he'd be king of the west. That's what Big Jake and Texas Red promised him when he said he was staying behind. He didn't want them boys; just the girls. He'd kill them boys.

He shifted positions carefully and lifted his rifle.

 

 

“You know Raines is gonna put it together, don't you?” Red asked Jake. “I mean, he's gonna know we set Cowboy Vic up to kill that kid Raines has been traveling with.”

“Yeah,” Jake grinned. “I know it. And that's gonna make Raines so goddamn mad he'll come buckin' and a-snortin' after us, revenge in his eyes. That's what I want him to do.”

“I gotta hand it to you, Jake. You got some smarts.”

“Thank you,” Jake said modestly.

 

 

For the fifteenth time Ben scanned the old town through binoculars. For the fifteenth time he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Still, he hesitated in letting the kids out of the house.

He had kicked over the pile of bodies around the porch, clearing the way. He could see the dust from the approaching Rebels, but something bothered him.

He lowered his binoculars when Rani came to his side.

“I don't want to stay here, Ben,” she said. “I want to go with you when you leave. Can we send the kids back to your base camp?”

“Sure. I think that would be best. Colonel Gray and his wild bunch will be here by midnight. I'll make arrangements with him.”

“That surprised your people when you called in and told them the outlaws had pulled out, didn't it?”

“Not really, Rani. My people have a reputation for being rough in any kind of a fight. But this isn't over. The outlaws might have monitored our radio transmissions; they might have had scouts out who saw the Rebels coming in. Either way, they found themselves in a no-win situation and pulled out. But it isn't over.”

Captain Nolan and his platoon pulled in. “Jesus, General,” the captain said, eyeballing all the bodies, “you folks did a number on them, didn't you?”

Ben gave a sergeant the map of the town, showing where the camouflaged open mine shafts were located, the trip wires, and the punji pits. The sergeant sent a team out to neutralize the traps.

The bodies of the outlaws were dumped down a mine shaft and the opening sealed.

The harnesses and the twin M-16's were taken down and stored in the back of a truck.

And the kids were finally freed from the old house overlooking the ghost town.

“General!” Captain Nolan's radio operator called. “Colonel Gray just called in. He's about two hours away.”

“Thank you,” Ben said. Ben longed for a hot tub of water and a long soak. The smell of gunpowder, sweat, and death clung to them all.

Jordy stood by the stone fence around the old house.

“A damn gutsy bunch of kids, General,” Captain Nolan said.

“They are that,” Ben agreed.

Jordy thought he detected some movement in one of the old broken-down buildings in town. He looked again. Nothing. Must have been mistaken, he thought.

“You kids don't leave the immediate area,” Ben cautioned them.

There it was again! Jordy thought, looking at the old building. He turned around. “Ben!” he called.

“Yes, son?”

A rifle cracked. Jordy was flung forward, a hole in his chest.

Roaring with rage, Ben ran to the boy's side and knelt down in the gathering blood. The bullet had cut the spine, angled off, and exited out through a lung. Pink froth bubbled from the boy's mouth.

“Take that son of a bitch alive!” Ben growled at Captain Nolan.

“Ben?” Jordy said.

“I'm right here, son.”

“What's my name, Ben?”

“Jordy Raines.” Ben could not keep the tears from spilling out of his eyes.

“Told you I didn't have very long to go, didn't I, Ben?”

“Yes, you did, boy.”

“But I done good, didn't I, Ben?”

“You done good, son.”

“It don't hurt none, Ben. I'm just cold.”

The boy closed his eyes and died.