Ashes - Alone In The Ashes Part 8

Sitting in the Jeep, under guard, West laughed. Barnes flushed at the taunting laughter.

"Real nice fellow, isn't he?" Ben asked.

"Has the milk of human kindness flowing strongly through his veins." Ben looked at West. "You'dbetter hope your men think enough of you to swap you for the prisoners, West. "Cause if they don't, you won't be laughing when I put a noose around your dirty neck."

West's laughter ceased as quickly as it came.

He sat in the jeep and glared at Ben.

The woman Rebel manning the radio called to Ben. "All the prisoners have been grouped together at one camp, General. They're still alive. Our scouts have made contact and are keeping the camp under visual."

"Tell them we're on the way," Ben told her. He turned to Doctor Barnes. "Coming with us, Doctor?"

"You couldn't keep me away, Raines."

"I wouldn't bet on that, Ralph," Ben told him.

The doctor met the Rebel's eyes. "Just a figure of speech, General."

"Uh-huh," Ben muttered.

"What's the procedure, West?" Ben asked.

Ben stood by the jeep where West sat. The outlaw was clearly in pain, his face slick with sweat and pale. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked at Ben.

"I don't know," West finally said. "Nothing like this ever happened before."

"Then I'll tell you," Ben said. "We'll make an even swap. You for the prisoners."

A sly look came into the outlaw's eyes. "You know d.a.m.n well you ain't got the people to overrun my boys, don't you, Raines?"

"Maybe. But we could sure put one h.e.l.l of a dent in your number."

"Yeah," West admitted.

"Think about it, West. You'll have to shut down your labor camps, but you'd be alive."

"And you'd keep your word?" the outlaw asked, suspicion in his eyes and voice.

"Yes."

"You got a bullhorn?"

"No. But we have walkie-talkie's."

"Gimme one."

A field radio was brought to the jeep. West checked the frequency and called in. He spoke for a moment, listened, then his voice became harsher. He turned to Ben.

"The guys don't trust you, Raines. h.e.l.l, I don't trust you. But it's the only game in town, so I gotta play it."

"When the last prisoner walks free of that camp," Ben said. "You're free. That's it."

"Hey!" West protested. "That ain't worth a s.h.i.t, man."

"You said it, West. It's the only game in town. Take it or leave it."

"Awright, awright." He lifted the walkie-talkie, and spoke for a few seconds.

He again turned to Ben. "They's comin" out now." Hiseyes shot hate at Raines. "This ain't the end, Raines. You takin' a h.e.l.l of a chance turnin' me loose. You know I'm gonna be comin' after your a.s.s."

"A lot of folks have tried, West. I'm still around," Ben told him.

"You ain't never had me on your a.s.s, Raines. I'll get you for this. And that's a flat promise, buddy."

Ben smiled, thinking that his newest odyssey would prove quite interesting.

Chapter 7.

Ben's Rebels and the newly armed civilians ringed the big camp, keeping the outlaws penned until the last of the prisoners were being safely trucked away back to Dyersburg.

Ben lifted his walkie-talkie. "You and your men are free to leave, now, West. Lay down your weapons and start walking."

"What?"

West screamed, the word bouncing out of the walkie-talkie.

"You heard me," Ben radioed. "Start walking."

"No G.o.dd.a.m.n way, Raines. We take our guns and vehicles."

"Captain Chad," Ben called. "Put ten rounds of mortars, H.e., into that camp."

"Yes, sir," the captain grinned.

A long barracks-type building went first, the high-explosive round sending bits of splintered wood flying. A guard tower was blown all over that part of Tennessee; another building was blown, then a mortar round shattered the big front gates of the labor camp.

"All right, G.o.dd.a.m.n it!" West screamed.

"All right, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Cool it!"

"Cease firing," Ben ordered.

"I cain't walk outta here, Raines,"

West's voice whined out of the speaker. "Gimme a break, man."

Charles Leighton whispered into Ben's ear. Ben grinned and lifted his walkie-talkie. "All right, West. You can ride out. On a mule."

West did not need a walkie-talkie. His cursing could be heard for half a mile.

"You got anything to say about that, Doctor Barnes?" Ben asked the man.

"Would my opinion make any difference, General?" the man asked.

"Not a bit, Doctor. But this being a democratic society, I thought Td ask."

"We need more medical people in here," Doctor Barnes b.i.t.c.hed to Ben. "The prisoners are in extremely bad shape. We need more doctors."

Ben was tempted to tell the man that a frog probably wished it were more beautiful; people in h.e.l.lwished they had ice water, and that if Barnes' aunt had been born with b.a.l.l.s, she'd have been his uncle.

Ben was getting awfully weary with Doctor Ralph Barnes.

Ben held his temper. "In addition to Doctor Walland, there are two fully-trained medics with the Rebel platoon. I can't pull any more people in here from Base Camp One."

"Millions for defense, but not one cent for tribute."

"Guns and b.u.t.ter," Ben countered. He walked away.

He found Judy helping in the makeshift hospital. "I'm pulling out in the morning," he told her. "If I stay here any longer, I'm going to end up beating the s.h.i.t out of Doctor Barnes. And that's not going to do either one of us any good."

"Ben ..." She faced him.

"I know. I know. You're staying. I think you should, Judy. You're needed here. I mean that, kid."

She kissed him, then smiled up at him. "I'm going to make you proud of me, Ben. I'm going to study and learn how to write books."

"I think you will, Judy. We'll say good-bye, now."

"Bye, Ben."

He walked away.

Ben was surprised to see Doctor Barnes leaning against his truck in the just-breaking light of dawn. Ben tossed his kit into the protection of the camper and walked around to face Barnes.

"I hope you're not leaving because of me, General,"

Barnes said.

"You're part of the reason," Ben said truthfully.

"But the real reason is I'm no longer needed here.

Captain Chad and his people will handle it. So it's time for me to be pulling out." Ben stuck out his hand and the doctor shook it.

"I was thirty-five years old when the bottom dropped out, General," the doctor said, speaking softly as dawn broke. "I had a family, a fine practice, and everything that went with that. I looked up the next day, and the entire world had gone mad."

"And you bet your whole roll on Hilton Logan," Ben said.

"Am I that transparent?" Barnes asked.

"Let's see if I can peg you, Ralph," Ben said, leaning up against the fender and lighting one of his horrible, homegrown, homemade cigarettes. He offered one to the doctor and Ralph took it.

"It's bad for your health," the doctor grinned.

"I heard that," Ben replied with a laugh. "You were what was known as a Yuppie. You belonged to the country club locally. You were politically and socially aware and active ..." He paused while the doctor inhaled and went into spasms of coughing. "d.a.m.n, that's good!" Ralph said. He took another drag and said, "Reasonably accurate. Continue, please.

You're a very astute man."

"You were a democrat, politically. You were opposed to the death penalty and loudly in favor of gun control. You bemoaned the state of the nation's health care for those who could not afford the skyrocketing medical costs, but you were against any type of socialized medicine. And you lived in a two-hundred-thousand-dollar home and your wife drove a Mercedes or BMW. How close am I, Ralph?"'

The doctor went on the defensive, as Ben had thought he would. "And what did you do about health care for those who could not afford it, General?"

"Nothing," Ben said. "I didn't have lobbyists in Washington, Ralph."

"And you weren't paying fifty thousand dollars a year for malpractice insurance, either, General."

"Want to jump on the back of lawyers, now, Ralph?" Ben said with a laugh.

Barnes joined in the laughter. "No. I don't believe so.

We'll save that for your return trip." He stuck out his hand and Ben shook it. "See you, General. Good luck to you."

"Luck to you, too, Ralph. See you on the back swing."

His scouts had reported that West and his people had last been seen trudging up Highway 51, heading north toward Kentucky. Ben headed west, taking 155 toward the Mississippi River and into Missouri. The bridge over the Big Muddy was clear and the river rolled beneath him, eternal and silent. Ben stopped on the center of the bridge and got out of his truck, gazing down into the muddy waters.

As he watched the swirling, ever-rushing waters of the Mississippi, a pa.s.sage from the Bible came to him: One generation pa.s.seth away, and another generation cometh; but the earth abideth forever.

"But what kind of men and women will the next generation give the earth?" he asked the cool winds of late fall.

Like the river, the winds swirled and rushed, speaking in a language only they could understand.

With a sigh, Ben got back into his truck and headed west.

He stopped at Hayti and looked around. There was no sign of life. But he knew there was life.

Almost every town of any size at all held two or ten or twenty survivors. But most, instead of organizing, pulling together, working together in a cooperative effort, for safety and defense and productivity's sake, were instead lone-wolfing it, and by doing so, were helping to drag down what vestiges of civilizationremained.

"No good," Ben muttered. "It can't be allowed to continue. The outpost idea must be implemented-and soon."

He smiled as he drove on west. "That's right, Ben. Set yourself up as a modern-day version of Don Quixote." Or perhaps you're playing the role of Sancho Panza, he thought.