165

Ben’s team made bets as to how they would arrive at the old resort hotel. Beth won. They were going to parachute in. It was by far the fastest way to get to the ground, for the nearest functional airstrip was many miles away. Another reason was that Ben simply did not trust Blanton.

“Shit!” Jersey said. Although she had jumped many times, she still was not overly thrilled about hurling her body out of a moving airplane at five thousand feet.

“Tiger-stripe,” Ben told his people. “Look sharp. Carry enough ammo for a sustained fire-fight. We may be jumping into a real stem-winder. I just don’t trust that socialist bastard or those wimpy hanky-stompers he’s got around him.”

Ike had flown in and would assume command in Ben’s absence. “If Blanton and I can reach some agreement to end this fighting, I fully expect Revere to go on the offensive as soon as he gets word of it. And you can bet he’s got informants among Blanton’s general staff. Stay on middle-alert, Ike.”

The flight across country was uneventful. The

166 planes set down at a Rebel outpost in Kentucky for refueling and then it was on to New York State the next morning. Blanton and company were standing on the porch of the resort hotel when Ben and his people came floating down.

“Oh, I just knew Ben Raines would do something terribly macho!” Harriet Hooter sniffed. “How utterly theatrical.”

“Honky, racist son of a bitch!” Rita Rivers said.

The troops of Blanton were very much in evidence, and they stood silently around the huge old hotel, watching the Rebels land. Their commanders had met with the teams of special ops people Cecil had sent in, and Blanton’s troops were very careful to keep their weapons at sling and their hands still.

“I just know we’re going to be ravaged,” Representative Fox said, standing behind the First Lady, who was standing behind her husband for the first time in twenty years-who was standing behind a post.

Blush Lightheart was wearing a bulletproof vest, motorcycle goggles, and a helmet. He looked like a bigger idiot than he really was. He wished he could have found a gun, but since he was one of those who had twittered and sobbed and peed their panties and finally passed legislation outlawing all guns-except those in the hands of punks, thugs, street slime and other worthless dickheads-weapons were sort of hard to find. Unless one knew where to look. And Blush didn’t.

“President Blanton,” Ben said, stepping up onto the stairs leading to the porch. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

“General Raines,” Blanton acknowledged, stepping away from the post. Those behind him moved

167 with him. It resembled a short conga line … with Blush out of step.

“You there!” Rita hollered, waving at two black Rebels. “Lay down your arms and stop being the lackeys of this racist pig.” She pointed at Ben.

One of the black Rebels winked at Ben. “You want me to eliminate her now, General?”

“Oh, my God!” Rita shrieked, and jumped behind Blush.

“Great stars and garters!” Blush squalled. “Get away from me, bitch!” Both of them bolted for the front door and got all jammed up together.

Ben laughed so hard he sat down on the steps. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes, looking up at Blanton, who was slightly embarrassed. “Is this a fair representation of your Forces of Independence and Brotherhood?”

That stung Blanton. “I suppose a certain type of person would find fear amusing.”

“Fear? Fear of what?” Ben stood and walked up to the landing. He towered over Blanton. “No law-abiding person has any reason to fear a member of the Rebel Forces.”

Rita and Blush were still hung up in the doorway, with Rita doing some pretty fancy cussing and calling Blush some very uncomplimentary names concerning his sexual preferences.

“Yep,” Ben said, moving to a wicker chair and leaning his Thompson against the porch railing. He jerked a thumb toward Rita. “That’s what I call true brotherhood and understanding.”

Blanton sighed audibly.

168 After some semblance of order was restored, Blanton and Ben met privately in Blanton’s office. They sat for a moment, looking at each other.

Blanton finally broke the silence. “I never in my life would have thought this day possible.”

“Why? We both want basically the same thing: order and stability.”

“But the roads we take to those ends are quite different.”

“I put people to work, Homer. If they don’t want to work, they get the hell out of any Rebel-controlled area. And I won’t tolerate crime. Now how far apart does that make us?”

Blanton was noncommittal.

“And where in the hell do you get off calling me the Great Satan, a shit-head, and a baby-killer, and my people malcontents?”

“I will admit that leaflet was a bit overdone.”

“Thank you. And we don’t rape and pillage either.”

“Rita and Harriet will be sorry to hear that,” Homer muttered.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Oh! Nothing. Talking to myself. It’s a bad habit I have.”

“I do the same thing.”

“Really? General …”

“Call me Ben.”

“Thank you. Ben …” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk. “Do you think we could coexist, our two societies, peacefully?”

“I don’t see why not. I’d rather see us come together instead of having two separate nations within a nation.” He smiled. “As a matter of fact, I was

169 working on a book about that very thing when the nation started coming apart, and then the Great War came. Two countries carved out of the United States. One extremely liberal, the other conservative.”

“How did the book end?”

“I never got a chance to finish it. Your federal agents seized the manuscript.”

Blanton sighed. “I made a lot of mistakes, Ben.”

“You sure as hell did. But you’re a big enough man to admit it now, and that’s good.”

“I tried to do too much for too many, far too soon.”

“Yes, you did. Do you see now that this nation cannot be all things to all people, all the time?”

Blanton smiled. “We will never agree on that, Ben.”

“Probably not. But at least we’re talking, and that beats the hell out of fighting.”

“Do you blame me for the Great War, Ben?”

Ben shook his head. “Oh, no. Not at all. And I don’t think historians will either. No reason to. When you took office, the world was changing so rapidly it was breathtaking. Major world events were happening with such speed that no one could keep up. The entire world was rushing toward self-destruct. And it did.”

Jersey entered the room over the loud protestations of a Blanton aide. She ignored him until he clamped one hand on her shoulder. Jersey spun around and stuck the muzzle of her M-16 under the man’s chin. “You have a deathwish, partner?”

“Ah … no,” the aide managed to say.

“Then don’t ever put your goddamn hands on me again. You understand?”

170 “Yes, ma’am.”

Ben stood up. “What’s wrong, Jersey?”

“Something weird’s going on, General. About half of Blanton’s guards have pulled out. And they did it real quick.”

“Pulled out?” Blanton asked, getting to his feet. “Why?”

“You tell me,” Jersey said menacingly.

“I swear to God I don’t have a clue as to what’s going on.”

That was another opening for a great comeback for Ben, but he let it slide.

Blanton turned to the aide who had made the mistake of putting hands on Jersey. “Fred, where is Bobby?”

“I don’t know, sir. I haven’t seen him since before General Raines arrival.”

“Find him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s a trick, I tell you!” the voice of Harriet Hooter came screeching and bouncing off the hall walls. “Raines is pulling something nasty and evil and totally Republican.”

“Spoken like a true liberal,” Ben muttered.

Blanton glanced at him and smiled. “Come on, Ben. Let’s see what’s happening around here. I’m sure there is some reasonable explanation for my guards’ disappearance.”

“Nick Stafford.”

“Who?”

“The man who now calls himself General Paul Revere. His real name is Nick Stafford. We served together briefly in ‘Nam.” Ben brought the president up to date on Nick Stafford.

171 “My God!” Blanton said.

The sounds of gunfire reached those in the old resort hotel. “Rebels are under attack!” Corrie called.

Fred, the aide, came rushing up. “Our people are under attack, sir.”

“Kill that double-crossing, no good Republican bastard!” Harriet hollered, pointing at Ben.

Jersey gave the woman the bird.

“How dare you!” Harriet said. “You camp follower. You cheap little road whore.”

Jersey took a step toward the former representative, fully intending to clean her clock. Ben grabbed her by the seat of the pants. “No contest, Jersey. Just consider the source and forget it.”

“Our people are under attack,” Blush rushed up. “But not by the Rebels.”

“Head for cover!” Ben shouted, giving Blanton a push toward the doors. “Nick’s trying to take us all out. I should have guessed it.”

The old resort hotel suddenly exploded and the floor beneath Ben’s boots opened up and swallowed him. The last thing he remembered was being conked on the head by what felt like a sledge hammer. He was plunged into darkness.

Ben came out of the darkness into more darkness. His head throbbed and he couldn’t move his legs. He could hear no sounds at all. He blinked a couple of times and his vision began to clear. There was some light, but not much. He looked at the luminous hands of his watch. Eight o’clock. He’d been out for hours. Something was cutting pain-172 fully into his back and it took him a moment to figure out it was his Thompson. At least he still had that. He lay still for a couple of moments, while his vision cleared even more and his brain began to work at one hundred percent.

Revere’s people must have planted explosives all over the damn hotel, Ben concluded. Then just before the charges went off, they split for the woods and got into a fire-fight with Blanton’s loyal people and Ben’s Rebels.

Ben wriggled around and freed one boot from the debris, then the other. He still couldn’t see for shit so he moved very carefully, not wanting to bring tons of the old hotel down on him. He got to his feet and found his cigarette lighter, sparking it into flame. He ached all over, but could find no serious wounds. Standing in one spot, he slowly did a full circle. The floor was still attached to one side of the wall, the other side blown free and hanging at an angle. He was in the cellar. He moved to the concrete foundation and found a door. It was either locked or jammed shut. He kicked it open and stepped into a long corridor. He did not have the foggiest notion where it led, but wherever it went was a damn sight better than where he was, so he started walking.

He stumbled over a body and nearly fell down. He knelt down and saw it was one of Blanton’s aides. The man’s chest had been crushed by a heavy timber. Ben walked on. He came to another door and opened it, exposing a stairway. He could see stars above him. Very cautiously, moving silently, his Thompson at the ready, Ben slowly climbed the

173 stairs, finally stepping out onto what had been the porch.

There were bodies everywhere. Ben made his way through the rubble and to the ground. He turned, looking back. The old resort hotel had been flattened except for the north wall, which still stood.

Ben began inspecting the bodies. It had been a hell of a fire-fight, for sure. He found Rebel dead, guards and troops loyal to Blanton dead, and troops wearing red armbands dead. Ben assumed those were Revere’s people. He took a flashlight from one of his Rebels but did not flash the beam, not wanting to advertise his location just yet. He took twin canteens, field rations, and a back pack from other dead Rebels and, moving cautiously, made his way away from the hotel grounds. He could do nothing in the night except get himself shot, so he found a place in the shrubbery and spread the ground sheet and laid down, pulling the blanket over him. Since there was nothing he could do until light, he went to sleep.

He awakened several times during the night, but heard nothing out of the ordinary. Up at his usual time, long before dawn, Ben shivered in the cold, but did not light a fire. He breakfasted on field rations and sipped water from a canteen, waiting for dawn. It seemed very slow in coming.

He quickly field-stripped his Colt .45 autoloader, and found it unharmed. He had left his Desert Eagle .50 behind for his trip. Ben still preferred the old service autoloader, considering it to be a fine old workhorse.

As dawn began to silver the sky, Ben could better see the terrible carnage that sprawled silently all

174 around the ruins of the hotel. There appeared to be hundreds of bodies. It was eerie, for they were all dead. As Ben walked amid the horror, he could see why. All of his people and the people loyal to Blanton had been delivered the coup de grace: a bullet to the head. After inspecting the bodies, Ben concluded that Revere’s forces had carried off most of their wounded.

Ben began gathering up weapons, ammo, field rations, and first aid kits and hiding them in the woods around the hotel grounds. He had no idea where his personal team was; only that they were not among the dead around the hotel. He did not know if they had been captured, were miles away fighting Revere’s troops, or believing him dead, trying to make their way back to Rebel-controlled territory. They had good reason to believe him dead, for several of his team and several of Blanton’s people had seen the floor open up beneath his boots and the walls cave in on him.

Ben hooked grenades on his battle harness, loaded up five more clips for his Thompson, filled a pack with ration packets, horseshoed ground sheets and blankets, and started walking down the side of the road he assumed led to a main highway of some sort. Damn thing had to either dead end or lead to something.

He had traveled about half a mile when he heard the sound of voices. Ben took to the brush and began slowly making his way toward the voices.

When he saw who the voices belonged to, he suppressed a groan-VP Harriet Hooter, and Representatives Blush Lightheart and Rita Rivers. Senators Hanrahan, Arnold, and Ditto. Of course, there

175 was not a gun among the bunch. Naturally. He couldn’t think of any bunch he disliked more than this one.

Ben stood up. “Quiet down!” he said. “You’re making enough noise to wake up Rip Van Winkle.” He walked into the camp and shook his head at the sight. It was a miserable-looking bunch of people. Not a one of them had had enough presence of mind to grab up from the dead a food packet, canteen, first aid kit, gun, or grenades.

“We thought you were dead, General Raines,” Senator Hanrahan broke the startled silence.

“Well, I’m not. Come on, follow me. We’re going back to the hotel.”

“Whatever on earth for?” Blush asked.

“To get you people outfitted for the field. You’ll all die of exposure dressed as you are. It’s threatening rain now. You’ve got to have tarps and blankets and ground sheets. We’ll get the clothing off the dead. Let’s go.”

“Off the dead!”Harriet hollered. “How grotesque!”

“Move your ass, lady,” Ben told her. “Before the bodies start the second stage of stiffening and start to stink.”

“I refuse!” Rita Rivers said.

“Then stay here and die. I don’t give a damn one way or the other.” Ben turned and started walking toward the hotel. He did not look back. He knew they’d all follow him, and they all did, bitching and complaining all the way. Until Ben threatened to shoot the next person who broke noise discipline. That shut them up.

“Green is simply not my color,” Blush bitched,

176 holding up a cammie BDU shirt. “Yukk,” he said, looking at the blood stain.

“Put it on and find some britches and boots that fit you. All of you. Move, goddamnit!”

“You don’t have to use so much profanity, General,” Hanrahan said. “There are ladies present.”

Ben had disliked Hanrahan from the moment he’d heard the man speak, some years back. That dislike had grown over the years. Hanrahan took one look into Ben’s eyes, and averted his gaze and closed his mouth.

“Wise decision, Senator,” Ben said. “Very wise.”

177 Ben got his reluctant commandos outfitted and ready to move. Almost to a person, male and female alike, they handled the M-16s Ben shoved at them like they were fondling live snakes.

“I haven’t the vaguest idea how to operate this evil thing,” Harriet said.

“The person behind the gun may be evil, Ms. Hooter,” Ben told her. “But since the weapon is not capable of thought or reason, it is impossible for the gun to be evil. Move out.”

Before Harriet could come back with one of her usual liberal-and totally out of touch with reality-comments, Blush Lightheart said, “I have never fired an M-16, but I was quite proficient with a hunting rifle in my youth. I never liked to kill animals but I did become a good shot.”

“Good,” Ben replied. “I want you to get up here and lead this …” For a moment he was at a loss for words. “… dubious gathering. I’ll range ahead about a hundred yards.”

“You want me to lead?”

Ill

178 “Yes. I’ll signal when I want you to move out. When I signal you to get down, get down fast.”

Rita Rivers immediately started boogeying. Which was a pretty good trick, since she was carrying about forty pounds of gear.

Ben cast his eyes toward the heavens for a moment and then moved out. About a hundred yards away, he motioned for the rest to follow.

“Forward, troops!” Blush ordered.

Ben hoped with all his might he did not meet with any type of resistance until he could hook up with some his own people.

“My feet hurt,” Harriet complained.

“My back hurts,” Hanrahan bitched.

“I think I have herniated myself,” Arnold announced.

“Silence in the ranks,” Blush said.

Ben heard the faint drone of a plane and motioned the group off the side of the road and into the brush. The single-engine plane was flying low and slow, with spotters on each side, behind the pilot.

“Keep your faces down,” Ben ordered.

“Why?” Hooter asked.

“Because the paleness can be easily seen.” He looked at Rita. “Excluding you, of course.”

“Honky, racist son of a bitch,” she replied.

“I’m certain that remark was not meant as a racial slur,” Blush objected. “The general was merely stating a fact.”

“Oh, shut up,” Rita told him.

“Tut-tut,” Senator Hanrahan said. “Shame on both of you.”

The plane flew on and Ben got the group up.

179 “Stay close to the brush,” he told them, as he studied a map. “We should intersect with Highway 86 just up ahead. That will lead us to Lake Placid-if anything is left of the town.”

“Not very much,” Blush told him. “It’s been looted and stripped down to a shell.”

“By poor unfortunate people who were oppressed for years and were only trying to survive in this still racist and sexist society,” Hooter immediately piped up. “Ruled by people with guns!” she added.

“Right on, sister!” Rita hollered.

“Move out,” Ben said wearily.

Ben didn’t attempt to push the group hard, allowing them frequent rest stops. Hanrahan was well past middle age and the rest were about Ben’s age, but not nearly in the physical shape he maintained.

During one of the rest stops, Ben began questioning the group. “Did anybody see what happened to Blanton?”

No one did.

“How about my personal team?”

Nothing.

“I was knocked unconscious for a time,” Hanrahan said. “The blast knocked me down.”

“I ran outside and was immediately set upon by this huge brute of a man who seemed intent on ravaging my body,” Rita said coyly.

“No one but Godzilla would want to ravage your body,” Blush told her.

Rita flipped him the bird.

No one knew anything. The blast had knocked them all to the floor and most scrambled to their

180 feet and ran outside and into the woods. They had wandered about until linking up.

Ben remembered shoving Blanton away just as the floor opened up under him so there was a chance he was still alive.

While they rested, Ben eased away from the bedraggled-looking bunch, took out a small handheld scanner, and began searching the bands. His worst fears were soon confirmed as he picked up chatter from Revere’s troops. A group of Rebels had been taken prisoner and were being held at Saranac Lake. Blanton and the First Lady were presumed alive and a search was on for them. Ben Raines was confirmed dead. Ben smiled at that. “Not just yet,” he muttered.

Senator Ditto walked over and sat down beside Ben. “General, I know you don’t like me; perhaps with good reason. But for the time being we are all in the same boat …”

“Wrong,” Ben said. “We are not in the same boat. I could walk away from this group and easily survive. Within a week I could have a resistance force gathered and be fighting Revere. You people are a stone around my neck. None of you, with the possible exception of Blush, know anything about guns, or survival, or rigging booby-traps, living off the land, or tactics of staying alive. You goddamn sorry bastards and bitches castrated this nation with your wimpy legislation. You ruined the intelligence community, tied the hands of law enforcement, disarmed the people, and bankrupted us with taxes. Fuck you, Ditto. I have a good mind to take Blush with me and just walk off and leave the rest of you for the jackals.”

181 The group had gathered around and all heard Ben’s heated words.

“You’d take a fag and leave us?” Rita said. “What are you, queer?”

“I wish,” Blush muttered. He raised his voice. “I can tell you with absolute certainty that General Raines is not gay. Believe me, we know who is and who isn’t.”

“Thank you,” Ben said.

“Well, for heaven’s sake,” Blush replied. “It wasn’t meant as any type of compliment!”

“Are you going to leave us for the jackals, General?” Senator Hanrahan asked.

“No. I couldn’t do that. I just want you all to stop your whining and complaining and do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it.”

“I am senior here, General,” Hanrahan said. “And I speak for the entire group. We will do whatever you tell us to do. We might not like it, but we will do it.”

The rest of the group nodded their heads.

Ben looked at them and had to work to suppress a smile. “Fine. You are now all guerrilla fighters.” He reached out and took Rita’s M-16. “We will now have a short course on the use of the M-16 rifle.”

Ben found a shady and well-hidden glen just outside of Lake Placid and left the group there, warning them not to move or raise their voices. He’d be back.

“You promise?” Harriet asked.

“I promise,” Ben assured her. ” ‘Til death do us

182 part,” he added. Or until I find some safe place to leave your ass, he thought.

“I shall protect the group with my life,” Blush said. “A lonely soldier on his vigilant watch.”

“That’s lovely, Blush,” Harriet said, patting his hand.

Ben left before the shit got too deep.

Ben reconnoitered the town carefully before entering. It appeared to be a dead town, with much of it in ruins. Then a slight movement in the smashed-out window of an old home on the edge of town caught his eye. He waited and watched. The movement came again and this time Ben could see who and what it was. A man wearing BDUs. Ben began working his way toward the house, staying low, skirting the house widely and coming up behind it. He spotted a ton-and-a-half truck parked in the garage. He was careful not to brush up against the house when he reached it. He could hear male voices.

“I hate this crap, man. This town is spooky.”

“Relax. This is easy duty. At least we’re not sleepin’ on the ground and being shot at.”

“You do have a point. But it’s weird just us in the whole damn town.”

“Yeah. To tell you the truth, man, I’d rather be over there where the Reb prisoners is being held humpin’ some of them good lookin’ Reb gals.”

“I like it when they put up a fight. I like to slap ‘em around.”

Ben stepped in through the back door and gave the would-be rapists a taste of .45 caliber justice.

183 The heavy slugs made a big mess out of both the men. Ben picked up their radio and headed for the truck. Ten minutes later he pulled off the highway and into the shady glen.

“I thought I heard shooting,” Hanrahan said, as Ben got out of the truck.

“You did.” Ben inspected the bed of the truck. Rocket launchers, plenty of rockets, and cases of field rations. “Get in,” he told the group. “And stay low.”

“Where are we going?” Harriet asked.

“To get as close to where my people are being held as possible. Then I’m going into town to raise some hell.”

“Alone?” Blush asked.

“Yep. Come on, people-move!” He didn’t tell them that this could well be their last journey. A single rocket could send them all over the place, in bits and pieces. He figured what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. At least not for very long.

Ben found a gravel road that more or less headed in the general direction he wanted to go and stayed with it. Hanrahan was very tired and looked awful. His color was bad. Ben made him ride in the cab with him.

“Do you know where we’re going, General?” he asked.

“Call me Ben. Oh, yeah. I know where we’re going. I just don’t know where we are at the moment.”

The older man stared at Ben for a few seconds and then chuckled. “I could find myself liking you, Ben.”

“Don’t,” Ben said shortly. “Because I don’t like one hundred percent liberals.”

184 “One hundred percent liberal, eh? So you admit you have some liberal in you?”

“Sure. I’m a tree-hugger and an animal lover. To some degree I’m an environmentalist. The Rebels have had teams working all over this nation trying to see to the needs of children and deserving adults. We’ve set up a monetary system. I’ve got some of the best minds in the nation down at Base Camp One working around the clock on ways to harness the power of the sun. And they’re doing it, Senator. I had trained scientists shutting down all the nuclear power plants around the nation, eliminating the danger of a melt-down. My people have been busy collecting books and art and preserving them for future generations. We have newspapers from all over the nation on microfilm, so those who follow us will have some understanding as to what went wrong. Of course, we already know what went wrong; I’m sitting beside one of the reasons. We have the best doctors staffing the finest hospitals offering the people the most up-to-date medical care. The Rebels have successfully fought armies that sought to occupy this nation and enslave Americans; and we’ve done that at a huge loss of life. There are people of all faiths and all nationalities and all races in the Rebel Army. We work together without bickering and without bigotry. We have a workable society in place, with all systems fully functional. And what have you goddamn liberals been doing since the Great War? Nothing. Except putting together an army to try to defeat the Rebels. Pissing and moaning and making flowery speeches to each other. OK. Now it’s your turn, Senator. Tell me why I should like you.”

185 Senator Hanrahan sat for several miles in silence. He sighed a lot. “Our intelligence about your society was wrong,” he finally said. “I should have seen through General Revere-should have known he was plotting a takeover. I spent too many years on the intelligence oversight committee.”

“You sure did. Fucking it up.”

Hanrahan shook his head. “You know by now, of course, he had spies in Base Camp One.”

“He doesn’t anymore. Just before I flew to the meeting with Blanton we flushed them out and shot them.”

“After a trial, I hope.”

“A very short one.”

“We will never agree with your system of justice.”

“That’s your problem, Senator. It works for us, and that’s all that matters. We don’t pat criminals on the head and mope about feeling sorry for them and making up excuses and rationalizations about why they did what they did. The law is the law, and in our society it is enforced to the letter. Every human being holds the key to their own destiny. It’s start-over time, Senator. Everybody gets a fresh start. Many of the men and women who make up the Rebel Army were once criminals. You didn’t know that, did you? Oh, yeah. I offered them a fresh start. A one time only amnesty. It will never be offered again.”

“We heard you had done that. We didn’t believe it.”

Ben shrugged his shoulders in complete indifference to what Hanrahan and his cohorts believed as they bounced along the old gravel and dirt road.

“If our president is alive …”

186 “He’s your president, not mine,” Ben corrected.

“If he is still alive, will you make any attempt to work with him?”

“No. We have long had plans to enlarge the Rebel-controlled areas. Effective immediately, Base Camp One will take in Texas, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Arkansas, Mississippi, Tennessee, North and South Carolina, Alabama, Georgia, and Florida. You people can have what’s left.”

“Good Lord, man!” Hanrahan almost shouted the words. “You can’t be serious.”

“As serious as a crutch, Senator.”

“You are a bold one, Ben Raines. But you’re forgetting we have quite an army. There are hundreds of thousands of people out there who are opposed to your form of government.”

“I have never been called timid. As far as your army goes-an army made up of losers and whiners and complainers-you won’t have it long. I intend to squash it like a roach. And Blanton is alive. He’s being held up here with my Rebels. I heard it on short-wave.”

“Thank God! What about the First Lady?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you have a workable plan for freeing your Rebels, General Raines?”

Ben smiled. “I always have a workable plan, Senator. That’s why I’m general of the most powerful army on the face of the earth, and you’re unemployed.”

187 Ben left the group in a secure area, well south and slightly east of the town. Loaded down with rockets, C-4, timers and detonators, and ammo, he headed into town. He left his Thompson behind and carried an M-16 because of the weight of the weapon and ammo. He stayed off the roads and stuck to the woods and meadows until he came to the edge of town. Once there, he began to circle until he found where the prisoners were being held. It was on the outskirts of town in what appeared to be some sort of playing field; baseball or football, Ben couldn’t tell. Using his binoculars, Ben studied the situation. It could have been worse, he concluded. As it was, the area was only loosely guarded, and as the night drew closer, the area would be shrouded in darkness, for Ben felt sure that power had not been restored this soon. He ate some crackers and washed them down with water from his canteen. He had spotted several dozen of his Rebels among the crowd, including Jersey, Beth, Cooper, and Corrie. Now how would he get them out?

Ben napped for a time, as he alternately slept and

188 pondered the prisoner situation. Then he smiled. “Hell, why not?” he muttered.

When it was full dusk, Ben readied some hunks of C-4 and worked his way close to the prisoners. He planted explosives on truck gas tanks, set the timers, then as quickly as possible moved away from that area. He was carrying six rockets for the Armbrust launcher, all of them HE fragmentation anti-personnel rockets. When the trucks blew, he was going to make life pretty damned miserable for a lot of Revere’s troops, and quite a bunch of them had gathered on the opposite end of the field, away from the prisoners.

The C-4 blew and Ben fired the first rocket. The explosion sent bits and pieces of Revere’s soldiers flying all over the sound end of the field.

“Jersey!” Ben yelled. “Straight north, people. Let’s go!”

He quickly readied another rocket and let it fly, then tossed the Armbrust to a Rebel who had jumped the low fence and landed by his side. “You have four pickles left, son,” he told the young man. “Make them count.”

“Yes, sir!” the Rebel grinned.

Ben started letting the lead fly from his M-16. Some of the Rebels had jumped their guards during the first few seconds of noise and bloody confusion, and had seized their weapons, turning them on their captors. In less than half a minute, the old playing field was in the hands of the Rebels and those troops loyal to President Blanton. Flames from exploded and burning vehicles were dancing upward, and the smoke soon cut visibility down to nearly nothing.

189 Revere’s troops never had a chance once the war dance started. All Rebels were extensively trained in hand to hand combat and they put that training to good use against their poorly trained and very startled captors.

Ben’s team gathered around him as the flames leaped and crackled and the smoke swirled. “Where’s Blanton and his wife?” Ben asked.

“We don’t know,” Beth said. “Last we heard they were being held somewhere in the town.”

“How many troops are we up against?”

“Couple of battalions,” Jersey said.

Ben looked at her face. She had a black eye, a busted lip, and several swollen and bruised places. “Who’d you tangle with, Short-stuff?”

“Couple of guys tried to rape me. They finally decided it wasn’t worth the effort.”

Corrie had taken a radio from one of the dead and was monitoring it. “The colonel in charge of this lash-up is ordering his people to regroup and defend the town,” she told Ben.

“He’s a fool,” Ben said. “Get the troops around me.”

Cooper stepped away and started shouting. Jersey said, “We’re pretty much cut off here. We can’t expect any help. The way I heard it was a timed push. Revere threw everything he had against our people out west at the same time the assault against the hotel was carried out.”

“We’ll make out. Everybody armed? OK. Let’s take the town.”

Raines’s Rebels were not accustomed to being taken prisoner, and they were pissed-off. Those troops loyal to Blanton exchanged silent glances

190 and fell in beside the Rebels, looking to Ben for command.

“We need their equipment,” Ben said, as he led the walk toward the ruins of the old town. “Let’s take as much of it intact as we can.”

“A Colonel Rush on the horn, General,” Corrie said.

Ben took the mic. “This is General Raines. What do you want?”

“Raines, you assault this town and I hang President Blanton and his wife.”

“And then I take you alive with the guarantee that it will take you a minimum of three very long and very painful days to die, Colonel. And I’ll turn the women that your troops raped loose on them. Think about that.”

The colonel had obviously heard that the Rebels could be extremely harsh at times. It did not take him long to make up his mind.

“He’s ordering his people to fall back,” Corrie told Ben. “Blanton and his wife and the staff members taken prisoner are all right. He’s leaving them behind. Revere’s people are in retreat.”

“Chicken-shits,” Jersey muttered.

Neither Blanton, his wife, or the members of his staff were hurt, except for their pride, which had been severely bruised.

“I am extremely grateful to you and your people, General Raines,” the president said.

“Save it,” Ben told him. “We’ve just learned that a full regiment of troops loyal to Revere is moving at us from the north; from the training base in Can—

191 ada-some of the thugs and punks and gang members you recruited. We’ve got to get the hell out of here. Mount them up, people.”

The reunion between Blanton, Hooter, Hanrahan, and the others was tearful, and at Ben’s sharply given command, very short. He ordered a few of his people back to the hotel to retrieve all the equipment they could get into the trucks and told another group to head for the center of the mountain range and set up camp there.

“My people don’t take orders from you, General,” Blanton told him.

“That’s fine with me,” Ben said. “You’re on your own.” Ben turned and walked away.

Blush looked at Blanton and said, “You, sir, are a fool!” He shouted after Ben, “Wait, General. I’m going with you.”

Rita Rivers, who was still slightly irritated because none of Revere’s troops had ravaged her said, “Good riddance.”

“General Raines is an arrogant and insufferable ass!” Harriet Hooter said.

“But we need him to stay alive,” the first lady said. “Come on, Homer. Put pride aside and let’s go.”

“Yes, dear,” the pres said.

It took the convoy all night to reach their destination. Corrie quickly set up communications and Ben got in touch with Cecil.

“We’re all right,” he assured his long-time friend. “Just tired and sleepy. I’ve sent personnel over to Fort Drum to retrieve those supplies and equipment we cached up there. How’s it looking out west?”

192 “It could be better, but Ike is holding so far. Re-vere’s troops are poorly trained. And our long-range artillery is helping to save the bacon. Blanton and company?”

“They’re with me. Reluctantly.”

Cecil laughed over the miles. “I’d love to hear some of the debates you and Blanton are going to have.”

“Oh, he’s not a bad guy, Cec. Just a typical liberal with his head up his ass, that’s all.”

“How did he receive the news about the expansion of our territory?”

“I’m not sure Senator Hanrahan has told him yet! Doesn’t make any difference. There isn’t a damn thing he can do about it.”

Several of Blanton’s staff were standing around in the old home Ben had chosen for his CP. They frowned at Ben’s remarks but made no comment. For the moment, General Raines was correct. For the moment.

The reports General Revere was receiving were sketchy, but he got the message. Rebels had attacked the holding area and had freed those captured Rebels and the troops loyal to Blanton. The message was more than a little vague about just how Blanton was freed. Blanton really made no difference anyway. He was a paper president running a paper government. The only thing that really bothered him was the news that Ben Raines was still alive. For a couple of days he had really felt up-beat. Then the news that Raines was still alive mentally knocked him to his knees.

193 Revere sat down behind a battered and scarred old desk. He had to come up with a plan to bust through the Rebel lines and then he could do an end-around. But he couldn’t shift his people and concentrate them for one big massive push. As soon as he did, that damnable ex-Navy SEAL, Ike McGowan, would swing his east and west battalions around and then Revere would be boxed.

Revere sighed. He knew perfectly well what this war would turn into: a damn guerrilla war. And there were no finer guerrilla fighters in all the world than Raines’s Rebels.

This war, Revere concluded, could drag on for years.

The next morning, Blanton sent one of his aides with a demand that Ben grant him an audience.

Ben looked at the man. “Well, why in the hell didn’t he just come over and knock on the damn door? Sonny, there isn’t much pomp and, circumstance with us. Tell him to come on. But make it quick. We’re liable to be fighting at any time. That enemy regiment is pushing hard.”

Blanton came right over and got to the point. “General, what is this I hear about you splitting from the Union?”

Ben leaned back in his chair. “Homer, there is no Union. Why can’t you understand that? It’s over. Done. Finished. We’ve got to rebuild from the ashes. I’m only taking eleven states. You’ve got the rest.”

Blanton took a deep breath and started quoting

194 the Declaration of Independence. Ben waved him silent.

“You’re awfully fond of spouting Jefferson, Blanton. So let me quote some Jefferson to you. How about ‘I hold it, that a little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing, and as necessary in the political world as storms in the physical.’ Sit down, Homer. And listen to me.”

Blanton sat.

“You spout the Jefferson that suits your ends, so I’ll spout mine. How about, ‘The basis of our government being the opinion of the people, the very first object should be to keep that right.’ “

Blanton remained silent. Since he was a minority elected president, there was damn little he could say about quotes from Jefferson’s letter to Colonel Edward Carrington.

“And how about this from Jefferson’s first inaugural address. I’ll take it slightly out of context, as you did: ‘A wise and frugal government shall not take from the mouths of men the bread they have earned.’ That’s not exact, Homer, but it’s close.”

“You’ve twisted that all around, General!”

“Shut up!” Ben shouted, pointing a finger at the man. “Don’t make me angry, Blanton. You wouldn’t like me much if you made me angry. I’ll give you one more Jefferson quote that in all your time in the White House you never once uttered. ‘No free man shall ever be debarred the use of arms.’ ” Ben smiled. “You are familiar with that one, aren’t you?”

Blanton said nothing.

“Or how about this one: ‘What country can preserve its liberties, if its rulers are not warned from

195 time to time, that the people preserve the spirit of resistance. Let them take arms.’ I never heard you mention that one, either.”

“What is the point of all this, General?”

“Very simple, Homer. Very basic. The Rebels are armed. We’re going to stay armed. We are going to carve a new nation out of eleven states. And the reasons we’re going to do that are simple. Never again will the government be allowed to disarm its law-abiding citizens. Never again will asinine and frivolous lawsuits be allowed to clog up our courts. Never again will a law-abiding citizen be jailed or sued for protecting what is theirs, be it self, loved ones, property, or pets. Never again will law-abiding citizens be afraid to walk the streets their tax dollars helped to build and maintain.”

“Are you quite through?” Blanton asked, a stiffness to his words.

“No. You listen. We can work together, Homer. Our nations can exist side by side. We can sign mutual defense treaties. We can trade with each other. We can have the same currency. We can have open borders. We can do all that, or you can fight me and you’ll lose. Now I’m through.”

“You’ll fight fellow Americans?”

“I’ll fight anybody who stands in the way of the right of law-abiding citizens to enjoy liberty, freedom, and the right to live without fear of thugs and punks and two-bit, liberal, would-be dictators.”

“You’ll destroy this nation!” Blanton shouted the words.

“Where in the hell have you been for the last few years, Blanton? Under a rock? The nation is de—

196 stroyed. It’s in ruins except for the areas controlled by the Rebels. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

“You dare to call me a dictator? What in God’s name are you, General?”

“I was first appointed by the people and then I was elected, Blanton. In free and open elections. Held on a Sunday, by the way, to make it easier for everybody to vote. You’ll never understand our system of government, Blanton. It’s too simple, too basic for liberals to comprehend. If the Rebel way is so harsh, so brutal, so restrictive, why then do we have several dozen communes of hippies living willingly, freely, and openly within our controlled areas? True, good, peaceful, back-to-the-earth-type hippies. You want to go visit with some of them when this war is over?”

“No. We’re well aware of those communes. We’ve monitored signals from someone called Thermopolis. Obviously a false name. What is his real name?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. Why should I care? It’s none of my business.”

Blanton stood up. “I’m going to pull together what is left of the armed forces and leave you, General.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in weeks. Providing you take Harriet Hooter and Rita Rivers with you.”

Blanton walked to the door. There, he paused and turned around. “We shall meet again, General. In open combat. And we’ll win, for God is on our side.”

Ben smiled. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before, too.”

Blanton stalked away and Jersey strolled in. “Cor-rie says that regiment is about a day and a half away. Two days at the most. We’ve got about a hundred

197 and fifty Rebels here, tops. How are we going to fight a regiment, General?”

“Like porcupines make love, Jersey. Carefully.”

198 Blanton and his people pulled out with only Lightheart reluctant to go. Ben’s respect for the man had grown. Lightheart appeared to have more sense than anyone else who served President Blanton. Ben put the presidential party out of his mind and turned to his own people, gathering around him. Ben had requested air drops from Cecil and the supplies had been delivered that morning. Ben had immediately sent out teams to start mining the only road in and to set up ambush points.

“We’re the mouse against the elephant,” he said, pointing to their location on a map. “So the first order of business is to cut that elephant down to size.” He tapped the map with a stick. “When they reach this point, they’re going to be real cautious. So we’re going to let them come on. We want them in deep and relaxed before we spring the trap. Revere can’t pull troops from the front to assist them, and Ike can’t send anyone to help us. So we’re on our own. We’re going to hit and then run like hell. We’ll regroup here.” He again tapped the map. “I don’t want any prisoners,” he said flatly. “Disarm

199 any who try to surrender and turn them loose or shoot them. I don’t care. That’s up to you. Just remember this: we are not only fighting Revere and his people, we are also facing a battle with troops loyal to Blanton. Speaking quite frankly, this is probably the most fucked-up situation we’ve faced in a long time. I don’t like fighting people who are flying the American flag. It’s very repugnant to me. But I cannot reason with Blanton; I can’t reach any sort of compromise with him, so there it is, and here we are. Squad leaders start moving your teams out. Good luck and God bless.”

Ben pulled his small team around him. Cooper asked, “Which side you reckon God is on in this thing, General?”

“I think he’s neutral, Coop. I think He sat back a long time ago, long before any of you were born, and put Earth on the back burner.” He paused, smiled, and looked heavenward. “Well, He didn’t strike me dead so I guess we’re not totally out of favor.” The team laughed at that. When the laughter had subsided, Ben said, “Let’s go, folks.”

The small teams of Rebels were spread out and dug in along a mile-long stretch of road. Each team was armed with rocket launchers-with every member of the team carrying four rounds-Big Thumpers, and automatic weapons. Each squad leader made certain every member knew the escape routes and where to rendezvous. They very carefully dug in and waited.

The colonel leading the advancing regiment sent recon in first. The recon moved carefully and cautiously. But they seldom investigated more than twenty or so yards on either side of the old highway.

200 Bad mistake. As soon as the recon teams had passed, the Rebels slipped out of their hidey-holes and reset the Claymores and placed C-4 at preselected sites. Then they slipped back to their holes and waited.

The first tanks of the long column appeared and the Rebels let them rumble past, allowing them to roll deeper and deeper into the trap. Ben and his team were located at the south end of the mile-long corridor of death, with a handful of Rebel scouts a few hundred yards past that point. When the enemy recon passed Ben’s location, they paused to radio in the all-clear. Five seconds later they were dead, felled by silenced .22s. Their bodies were quickly dragged off the road and tossed into the brush just as the first tank drew up to Ben’s location.

“Now!” Ben said, and Cooper fired the Armbrust. The rocket slammed into the side of the tank and turned the inside into a fiery death for the crew. Beth took out the second tank and Jersey finished the third one. Up and down the mile-long stretch of highway, explosions shattered the quiet and a rattled regimental commander screamed orders to get the hell out of there.

But it was too late and too confusing. The tanks and trucks got all jammed up in their haste to get away and it became a turkey shoot for the Rebels and a massacre for the enemy troops. Then the Rebels vanished, running all out east and west. When they reached a preselected heading, they cut south, heading for the rendezvous spot. They left behind them a mile-long section of smoking, burning, and exploding hell. The Rebels headed for the ruins of a tiny town at the intersection of Highways 28 and 30.

201 They had not suffered a single person lost due to death or wounds.

While Ben and his people regrouped, the regimental commander of Revere’s troops had to hold up and lose a full day clearing the road and seeing to the wounded and burying the dead. Blanton and his troops had crossed over into Vermont and set up in the Green Mountains. His more experienced and worldly and less liberal commanders monitored the antics of Ben Raines and his Rebels by radio and exchanged glances. None of them were looking forward to tangling with the Rebels. But how to convince President Blanton that declaring war on the Rebels was going to be a bloody and terrible mistake? They were soldiers, and they would do as their commander in chief ordered. But they knew in their hearts they would never defeat the Rebels. To do that, they would have to wipe them out to the last person, and that was impossible. The commanders met and selected General Taylor to meet with Blanton.

“Mister President,” Taylor said. “It’s time to put past political differences behind you and give serious thought to joining forces with the Rebels and defeating General Revere. When that is done, then you and General Raines can sit down and work something out.”

Blanton shook his head. “No. I won’t do that. I will not allow that man to flaunt the constitution.”

Taylor sighed. “Mister President, I’ve got to convince you of something. Ben Raines couldn’t, but maybe I can. Those thousands of people rushing

202 to join us are worthless. They’re losers-before the Great War, and afterwards. Believe me. My people have interviewed those types for months … years! They want something for nothing. They’re scared to death of Ben Raines because they can’t live under very simple and very basic Rebel rule-“

“Of course, they can’t,” Blanton cut him short. “No one wants to live under a dictatorship.”

General Taylor sighed. “Mister President, I am sworn by oath to serve you. I will not break that oath. I will stand by you. But you are very wrong about General Raines. The Rebels don’t live under a dictatorship. They are the freest people on the face of the earth.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense!” Harriet Hooter stuck her mouth into it. “How can everybody be free when everybody is armed to the teeth with those horrible, nasty guns?”

General Taylor cut his eyes. He couldn’t stand the woman, but she was a friend of the president. “Ms. Hooter, that is precisely the reason they are free.”

“Nonsense!” was her reply. “Horrible, nasty Republicans.”

General Taylor stood up. “Mister President, I would much rather have General Raines for an ally than an enemy.”

“That is possible only if General Raines and his followers will swear allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and agree to relinquish the territory they now claim and rejoin the Union.”

“That, sir, is something that will never happen.”

“Then the war will be long and costly, but we

203 shall eventually crush them in battle,” said the president. “For God is on our side.”

“Shit!” said the general, then left the room.

General Revere and his people were stopped cold and could not advance an inch. He sent commando teams sweeping around both ends of the Rebel lines. He stopped sending them when none of the previous teams reported back. There was no turning back for Revere; he was committed and was fully aware of what would happen to him should he lose. Neither President Blanton nor Ben Raines would hesitate a second in ordering him shot on the spot.

General Taylor had ordered Revere’s supply lines severed. In a week or so, that would begin to tell. Revere had to make a decision, and had to make it soon. There was just no way he could fight on three fronts. He had sent messages out to the warlords he knew leaned toward his way of thinking, but so far, no replies had come in. If they would just swing over to his side …

“General,” an aide broke into his thoughts. “The spokesman for all the warlords, Al Rogers, just called in. He and all the others have agreed to fight with us.”

“All right!” Revere jumped to his boots. “Get all my people in here, Jimmy. We’ve got to move fast.”

“Something weird’s going on, General,” Corrie called to Ben. “Colonel Taylor has been ordered back. Base Camp One reports massive movements of warlords and their people. Thousands of well—

204 armed people. Intelligence seems to think that gangs of all colors have apparently put aside their differences and agreed to fight against the common enemy.”

“Us,” Ben said.

“Right.”

“Well, you can bet they’ve thrown in with Revere. Get me Ike on the horn.”

“Go, Eagle,” Ike said.

“Ike, you heard from Cec?”

“That’s ten-four. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know for sure. But I’ll bet you a bottle of whiskey that Revere will be pulling out, or has already begun doing that, and heading in this direction. Those warlords and their people will be throwing up a line right down the middle of the country to block you.”

Ike was silent for a moment. “Could be it, Ben. We intercepted a message that General Taylor had cut Revere’s supply lines. He’d be hurting in a couple of weeks. If these punks are well-equipped, they could hang me up.”

“Expect that, Ike. According to reports, they are very well-equipped. Revere’s going to try to take out Blanton and his people, then deal with me. I’ve got some decisions to make, Ike. I’ll get back to you. Eagle out.” He looked at Corrie. “Get me home base, Corrie.”

“Cec here, Ben. What’s up?”

“Let me hear your opinion on what the warlords are doing.”

It was the same as Ben thought.

“Ben, you’re not going to try to assist Blanton and his people, are you?” Cecil asked.

205 “With what, Cec? Less than a company? I’m not going to sacrifice my people because of his hard-headedness. I’ll try to advise him, but whether he takes that advice is up for grabs. Probably he won’t.”

“And then?”

“I’m taking my people and getting the hell out of here. Have a battalion start moving north, Cec. Armor, artillery, the whole mobile bag. As many people as you can spare. Stay on the east side of the Mississippi. We’ll link up with them somewhere in Indiana.”

“Will do, Ben. Cec out.”

“Get me Blanton, Corrie.” Ben poured a cup of coffee while he waited.

Corrie said, “The president is not available at this time, General.”

“Not available? What the hell is he doing, watching for the maple sap to start dripping?”

Corrie ducked her head to hide her grin.

“Can you get me General Taylor?”

“I’ll try, sir.”

Ben rolled a cigarette and sipped his coffee.

“General Taylor on the horn, sir.”

“General Taylor? Ben Raines here.” He laid it all out for the man.

“Damn!” the general said, when Ben finished. “I think you’re probably right, General Raines. I’ll give your suggestions and my recommendation to the president and urge him to take your advice. But …”

“Yeah, I know. Good luck to you, General Taylor.”

“Luck to you, General Raines.”

Ben handed Corrie the mic and said, “Pack it up, people. We’re shagging ass out of here.”