164

At the radio station, Ben waited until the fumes from the gas had dissipated, then sat and listened for more than an hour to the transmissions being sent back and forth from North America to southern Mexico. From the number of transmissions, Ben then knew just how heavy was the infiltration of the NAL into North America. And it was enough to worry him.

Then, using encrypted burst transmissions, Ben talked to his batt comms. Every raid the Rebels conducted that morning had gone off without a hitch. Only one Rebel had been injured, and he had broken his ankle slipping on an oily spot on a runway.

“All bridges leading across into North America are wired and set to blow,” Ike told him. “All we have to do is hook ‘em up and flip a switch.”

“Have you met much resistance?”

“That’s ten-fifty, Eagle. It appears to me that Hoffman sent his people ‘way north of the border to try to box us in.”

“That’s the way I see it. We’ve secured the Texas border, but that’s only going to buy us a little time. California, Arizona, and New Mexico are still wide

165 open. Any suggestions.”

“Not at the moment, Eagle. Hoffman’s boys can spill across those borders like ants to honey. I’ve sent people in to destroy the crossings, but that won’t slow them much when they decide to spill over. You want me to start working on the bridges along the Colorado?”

Ben hesitated for a moment. “No,” he finally said. “We’re supposed to be rebuilding, not destroying. Once those bridges are gone, they’ll not be rebuilt in our lifetime. And they’re vital links. Let’s play it by ear for a time.”

“Okay by me, Eagle. We’ve got reports that a group of Hoffman’s crud is operating about a hundred miles north of my present position. I’m going up to check that out.”

“That’s ten-four, Shark. Eagle out.”

Ben was thoughtful for a moment. He knew Ike had been transmitting from Nogales. So if Hoffman had people about a hundred miles north, that meant that the outpost at San Manuel had more than likely been overrun. He told Corrie to bump Therm down at Laredo.

“Cecil’s been hospitalized, Ben,” Thermopolis informed him. “The doctors don’t think it’s anything more serious than exhaustion. His XO has taken over.”

“All right, Therm. Keep me informed on his condition. What’s the word from south of the border?”

“Hoffman has made no moves yet. I don’t think he knows about his bases in Texas being knocked out.”

“He will by noon. That’s when they all check in. Advise General Payon of that and tell him to brace for an attack.”

“Ten-four, Ben. Therm out.”

166 “Pack up, Corrie. We’re going to slide over toward Waco and see what’s shaking along the way.”

Ben’s teams dropped down to Highway 84 and cut east, stopping at the ruins of Fort Hood when they saw smoke from many fires coming from the old military reservation. It was a squatters’ camp, with about three hundred people existing there, and living conditions were awful. The human trash living there were all armed, but they knew better than to tangle with the Rebels. Some of them there had tried that before and had firsthand witnessed the awful fury of the Rebels.

“Radio for choppers to come in and get these kids,” Ben said, after walking through the camp. “Just because their parents are walking garbage doesn’t mean the kids have to be.”

“You ain’t got no rat to do ‘at,” a man shouted. “Them kids is ourn.”

“They won’t be by this afternoon,” Ben told him. “If you want to live like pigs and sewer rats, that’s your choice. But the children will be raised in a decent manner.”

The man stood staring at Ben. But he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“These kids have lice, fleas, and all are suffering from malnutrition,” a medic reported. “They’ve all been beaten and some have been sexually abused.”

“Times is hard,” a woman told Ben. “We grownups has got to have the best food so’s we can hunt and fish and trap and the like. ‘Em ‘air kids is tough. They don’t need as much food as we’uns.”

Ben fixed her with a very dark and angry look. “Get this goddamn stupid person away from me before I shoot her,” he finally said.

The woman paled under the dirt on her face and quickly faded back into the knot of unwashed and

167 ignorant people.

“When we get over to the river, we’ll all strip down and bathe,” Ben said. “We can get the fleas and various other hopping and jumping insects off us that way. Jesus, how can people live like this?”

“You and General Payon are so much alike it is frightening,” Tomas told him. “I have seen him weep at sights like this.”

“No one has to live under these conditions.”

“There ain’t no work, General,” a man said, stepping out of the crowd. “Anddon’t none of us care to live under them rules of yourn. Way I see it, how we live ain’t none of your goddamn business.”

“The way you treat children certainly is,” Ben said. “And you could live under Rebel rule if you tried. You just won’t try.”

“I tried,” the man said. His hands were balled into fists and his face dark with anger. “I was at that outpost of yourn up near the Oklahoma border. Ever’time I turned around somebody was a-tellin’ me to cut my yard or not to whup up on my old lady or the kids and all kinds of shit like that. I had me an old dog that wouldn’t mind and wouldn’t hunt. It wasn’t no good for nothin’. I beat the damn thing to death with a 2x4 and a Rebel soldier boy come along and took it away from me and whupped my head to a fare-thee-well with it. I had a headache for a goddamn week. They throwed me and mine out of the community and told us not to come back. But they kept my young’uns. All you people is is a bunch of commonists.”

“The word is communists. And you’re very lucky it wasn’t me that found you beating that animal,” Ben told the man. “I’d have shot you.”

“Your day’s a-comin’, Ben Raines,” the man told him. “When Hoffman gits here we ain’t gonna have the likes of you and your army tellin’ us what to do.”

168 Ben laughed at the man, and that seemed to make the misfit even angrier. “You really think Hoffman will tolerate the likes of you any better than I do?”

“At least he cares more about human bein’s than he does animals!”

“Whup his uppity ass, Hugh,” a woman shouted.

“Shet your mouth,” Hugh told her without taking his eyes from Ben.

“Obviously I care about humans, Hugh,” Ben said. “I’m taking the children to see that they are properly cared for, aren’t I?” Ben knew he should just back off and leave the squatter camp. But he just didn’t like the Hughs of the world. He had never been able to stomach men like Hugh, and they came in all colors and all sizes.

“Ah, hell,” Jersey leaned close and whispered to Victoria. “I can see it coming. The general’s gonna duke it out with this bum.”

“You mean, fight him with his fists?” Victoria asked.

“Fists, boots, knives,” Jersey said nonchalantly. “It really doesn’t make that much difference to the general.”

“But… generals do not fight with their fists!” Maria said.

“This general does,” Beth spoke up.

Ben gave Hugh a closer inspection. The man was about forty-five, he guessed, and looked to be in pretty good shape. He obviously had not missed nearly as many meals as he had baths. Hugh was about six feet tall and at one time he’d been muscular. But the years had softened that. And Ben could guess with reasonable accuracy what was coming next out of Hugh’s mouth. His type never varied all that much.

“You a mighty tough-talkin’ man with all these