Zipper asked

Thermopolis.

“Yes.” His reply was slow as he cut his eyes to Jerre.

“And she’s standing right over there.”

The demolition teams began bringing the buildings down, the shattering crashes sending huge clouds of dust swirling upward, joining the dark smoke from the burning building.

Buddy and his teams worked swiftly with the barrels, filling them with dirt and saturating the dirt with gasoline. The barrels were placed half a dozen to a short block, more to a longer block, and into buildings the Rebels would occupy that cold winter night. Portable coal-burning stoves were brought down with the hot food, the Rebels taking shifts eating and sipping scalding hot coffee. The food and the coffee chased away the weariness brought on from the frantic work of that afternoon.

All of the Rebels longed for a hot bath, but all knew that was impossible. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe. For now, they would tolerate their grimy hands and faces and the stale smell from their bodies.

South of Ben’s area, the elusive, seldom-seen but friendly Underground People had taken up positions in Central Park. Gene Savie’s people were scattered along a dozen-block area, and Colonel West and his mercenaries had sealed off 86th Street, west to east, over to the Carl Schurz Park. The Rebels had placed many of the creepies in a box, and Ben was determined to put the lid on the box, nail it shut, and bury it.

Then he would deal with Khamsin.

The still-burning buildings cast weird dancing shapes and shadows flickering across the snowy street as demolition crews worked in the night, planting more charges and bringing down more of the old long-abandoned buildings. As the Night People tried to make their escape above ground, their underground tunnels blocked and collapsed, the Rebels shot them as they ran.

Those creepies who actually made it out of the ruins had but one direction to run-south-and when they did, they ran smack into Savie’s survivors, the mysterious Underground People, and Colonel West and his mercenaries. The few night crawlers who made it into the park in the curve of the East River were hammered to the cold earth by lead from hidden machine-gun emplacements.

Ben sat in the relative warmth of a ruined building, sipping on a mug of coffee, smiling, savoring the sweet aroma of hot coffee and the equally sweet taste of victory. He knew there would continue to be battles between his forces and the Night People, probably right up to the moment he would lead his forces out of New York City-and he would lead them out-b the back and both legs of the cannibalistic creepies had been broken.

Thermopolis sat a few feet from Ben, watching the man munch on a biscuit and sip his coffee. “I don’t suppose,” Thermopolis said, “now that you feel the Night People have been routed, you’d care to tell us how you plan on dealing with the Libyan?”

Ben met his eyes. “He’ll have to come to us.”

“Why? Why can’t he just sit over there in New Jersey and starve us out?”

“For one thing, he doesn’t have the food to outlast us.

I’m betting I’m right on that. Neither does he have the patience. Those people aren’t accustomed to harsh winters, and this winter is a long way from being over. He knows we have him outgunned with long-range artillery. He has two very shaky allies in Monte and Ashley.

He’s going to have to make his move very quickly, or those two will cut and run. Sister Voleta-and keep in mind that she is a nut-and her followers, all trash and scum, will soon weary of the waiting; I’ve dealt with them before. Therefore, to keep his army intact, Khamsin will have to come to us.”

Especially after I put the needle to him, Ben thought.

“You want him to come to us, don’t you?”

“Yes. Now that his forces have been cut in half.”

Thermopolis sipped his coffee-real coffee, now that a large warehouse had been discovered in the city-and studied Ben Raines. Jersey and Beth and Jerre were all huddled together. He didn’t think they were asleep, but they weren’t far from the arms of Morpheus. Cooper and Buddy and a few other Rebels were watching and listening to the exchange.

“You could get us off this island right now, couldn’t you, Ben Raines?”

Ben smiled at the man. “Now why would you think a thing like that, Therm?”

“Because you’re sneaky and calculating and would never let yourself be put in a box without an escape hole, that’s why.”

But Ben would only smile and offer no comment.

“If you have a plan,” Thermopolis pressed, “and something were to happen to you, how would the rest of us know what to do?”

“Assuming I have a plan, there will be others I will have taken into my confidence. Relax, Therm, we’re going to win this fight.”

“And the next one and the next one and more after that, right, Ben Raines?”

“Sure. Many years of fighting face us. You and your bunch better stick with us, Therm.”

“Why?”

“Simple. You’re marked now. All up and down and across the nation, the word has gone out among the filth and crud and warlords and what-have-you: the hippie has traded his peace symbol for a gun… .”

“But we’ve always carried guns.”

“But you never before linked up with me, Therm. You were pretty much left alone because you people would fight if pressed into it. Now look at you. Combat boots, body armor, battle dress, and you’re commanding your own detachment, a part of a larger army. Ben Raines’s Rebels. And whether you like it or not, you’ll leave here knowing a hell of a lot more about survival than you did coming in. And you’ll put it to use.”

“So?”

“Other small groups of people who think like you-and I’m not saying your way of thinking is wrong, because it isn’t-will join your group, your commune, whatever you call it. Your ranks will swell and you’ll have a settlement, a town, with schools and medical facilities and so forth. And others of a different ilk will try to take it from you. And what will you do?” Ben shrugged. “Fight… it’s human nature.”

He smiled at the hippie. “Welcome aboard, Therm.”

Thermopolis did not return the smile. “All that you just said need not necessarily be true.”

“Ah, but it is, my friend. You’re not going to allow what you have built and what you will build to be taken from you. For all your beads and long hair and noble words, you and I are not that much different.”

“The hell you say!”

“Don’t you have rules widiin your commune?”

“Of course,” Thermopolis said indignantly, but with a sinking feeling that he was going to lose this debate.

Bastard was tricky.

“Why do you have rules if you’re such a free spirit?”

Thermopolis pointed a finger at Ben. “We have rules, not inflexible laws like you and your group.”

“Bullshit, Therm. What do you do when one of your group turns bad and rapes or kills or steals?”

“That has never happened since we’ve been together.”

The son of a bitch is about to trap me again, Thermopolis thought.

“Why hasn’t it happened, Therm? If your society is so free and open and so forth? You just let in anybody who comes wandering up, right?”

“No, Ben Raines, we don’t do that.”

“Ah! You don’t. So you must have a certain code, or set of laws-rules,

since we’re playing semantics here-that you go by, right?”

“Yes, Ben Raines,” Thermopolis said

wearily. “We do.” Bastard!

“You have schools, Therm?”

“Of course, we have schools!”

“We have schools. You have medical facilities?”

“Of course, we do!”

“So do we. Is there a system of government within your organization? Someone to whom people come to make the final decisions.”

“In some cases, yes.”

“And that person is … ?”

“Me, Ben Raines!”

“And there are basic …