Ashes - Ambush In The Ashes Part 32

Ben's mouth was suddenly very dry from disgust and rage. He unscrewed the cap from one of his canteens and took a sip of water. It helped, but not much. He unwrapped a stick of gum and chewed it. His mouth lost its bad taste.

". . . Used to be a fishing festival held here," Corrie was saying. "A big event. Fishing around this part of the river was banned for the rest of the year."

"I sure would like to see some lions and tigers," Cooper said.

"No tigers here, Cooper," Beth told him, for about the umpteenth time.

"Lions yes, tigers no."

"They were in all the Tarzan movies," Cooper insisted.

"Oh, s.h.i.t, give up, Beth," Jersey urged. "Cooper has a mind like a steel trap-one that is rusted shut."

"That locks in all my knowledge, my beautiful little sun-baked flower,"

Cooper responded.

"Stick it up your kazoo, Coop," Jersey told him.

Corrie walked up to Ben. "No survivors anywhere in the town, boss," she reported. "Or for several miles around in any direction."

Ben nodded his understanding and stood up. "We'll have to wait for the official report from the mobile research team, but I'm pretty sure it was a man-made bug that killed these people."

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"Then he could use it on us just as easily," Corrie stated softly.

"He won't do that," Ben told her. "He knows we've got nuclear capability as well as ma.s.sive stockpiles of nerve agents, and he knows we have the delivery systems to annihilate him," Ben's smile was not pleasant. "And he knows I'll do it. Corrie, tell security to bring Paula Preston, Marilyn d.i.c.kson, and Alex Marsh to my CP immediately upon landing."

"Right, boss."

The two reporters and whatever the h.e.l.l Paula Preston was were scared and could not hide it. Alex Marsh was sweating and trembling, Marilyn d.i.c.kson was bug-eyed with fear, and Paula kept blinking her eyes and wiping the palms of her hands on a moist handkerchief.

"Interesting game you three were playing," Ben opened the dance.

"Fortunately for me, very unfortunate for you it didn't work out as planned.""Whatever in the world do you mean, General?" Marilyn managed to squeak.

"Yes. What are you accusing of us?" Alex asked, his voice breaking.

"Oh . . . consorting with the enemy and espionage will do for starters, don't you think?"

"You can't prove any of those charges!" Marilyn blurted.

Ben smiled. "Not, 'what are you talking about?' Not, 'I didn't do anything.' Just, 'you can't prove it.' That just about says it all, doesn't it?"

"The Union must be restored!" Alex finally found his b.a.l.l.s and shouted the words.

"Even to the point of getting in bed with some low-life sc.u.m such as Bruno Bottger?"

"You talk about someone being low-life sc.u.m?" Mar- 279.

ilyn said. "You are one of the vilest men to walk the face of the earth.

You . . . you . . . filthy beast!"

Ben chuckled. That phrase reminded him of one of his favorite Cary Grant movies, but he couldn't recall the name of it. "Very convenient of all you press types to get away just before the a.s.sault. How'd you manage that?"

The three of them stood silent before him. They said nothing.

"Let me guess," Ben said. "Paula here had a radio. Set on a scrambled dark frequency straight to Bruno. It's possible it's just a receiver. He alerted you when the attack was to take place and you simply walked out of camp and got clear. Maybe he even had vehicles waiting for you. I don't know. But you sure as h.e.l.l didn't hoof it from the attack site to Jega."

The three said nothing.

"I don't know how many others are in on this with you, maybe none of them. Maybe all of them. But nevertheless, they're all homeward bound as I can arrange it. I can't risk spies wandering around our camps."

"You have no proof to back up any of these accusations," Marilyn said, her words dripping with hatred.

"Oh, but I do," Ben corrected. "My intel people back home have now directly linked you and Marsh here to the takeovers outside the SUSA and the recent overthrow of the government. Paula here works for the intelligence section of the state department. Always has. She's the only real pro in the bunch. The rest of you are just whiny left-wing liberals-of the worst type: the pukey kind."

"May we sit down, General Raines?" Paula asked.

"Certainly. I'll even have coffee or water brought in for you, if you like."

"That would be very nice. Thank you. Coffee for me."280 "And for me," Marilyn said.

"Give me liberty or give me death!" Alex suddenly shouted.

"Oh, sit down and be quiet, you silly twit," Ben told him. "If you were interested in true liberty you wouldn't be a f.u.c.king liberal looking for big government to solve all your problems. At least know something about history and politics before you start flapping that foolish mouth."

"Bring him a gla.s.s of water," Paula said. "Coffee makes him very nervous."

"Goodness, we certainly can't have that," Ben muttered.

With Paula and Marilyn sipping their coffee and Alex gulping at his water, some of it running down his chin- or what pa.s.sed for a chin-Paula said, "I can't speak for the others. I'm not qualified to do so. I can only speak for myself."

"Go ahead," Ben said. The entire conversation was being recorded by a technician in the next tent, which b.u.t.ted up against Ben's CP.

"Bruno swore to us that he would never commit genocide. He said it was all sorts of diseases that were responsible for the deaths of so many people here in Africa."

"You've met him?"

"Yes. Many times since his arrival in Africa."

Ben cut his eyes to the reporters. "You two met him?"

"No," Marilyn said. "Only his emissaries."

"And you all believed him?"

"Yes," Paula said. "Up to a few weeks ago."

"What changed your mind?"

"Survivors of the germ attack. Something is wrong with the . . . germs, or gas, or whatever it is he uses. Something is out of balance. I don't know. I'm no scientist. But it drives people mad. Many of them have 281.

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survived and are hiding in the bush, some in the cities. Thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands. It ... distorts their features. Makes them bug-eyed. Their lips are enlarged, tongues are slightly swollen, faces all puffy. Great open sores all over them. They're . . . hideous."

"Good ol' Bruno," Ben muttered. "Always good for a laugh." He cleared his throat. "Then where we are, here in Argungu, might be filled with these . . . people, waiting to come out of hiding and pounce on us?"

"I would imagine so.""Oh, goody," Ben said. "That's just f.u.c.king wonderful. Excuse me. I feel I just might need to alert my people now. I'll be back."

He was back in a few moments. Outside, the encampment had gone into action. Ben sat down and fiddled with his empty coffee cup. When none of the three before him would speak, Ben said, "Somebody better talk to me."

"Only a few people involved in the recent takeover back home know anything about our alignment with Bruno," Marilyn spoke in a low voice.

She was crying, tears running down her face. "None of us knew Bruno was . . . well, such a monster."

"I told you he was!" Ben said, suddenly very exasperated with the whole situation. "I told you all about Bruno Bottger. All of you."

"We didn't believe you," Paula said, her misery very evident in her voice. "I mean, well, we had to take into consideration who you are, your reputation, and what you represent."

Ben just didn't feel like pursuing that line. He was suddenly very weary of years of fighting the overt evil of the world and the covert evil of a bunch of half-a.s.sed do-gooders back in the States.

"What are you going to do with us?" Alex asked.

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Ben sighed. Shook his head. "I don't know. I probably should shoot all three of you."

"We didn't know the a.s.sault was coming!" Marilyn almost shouted the words. "As G.o.d is my witness, we didn't know. All we knew is that we were contacted and told to get out; get ready to come to South Africa.

That we would be picked up and taken out of harm's way."

Lying, Ben thought. They're all lying. They knew. The rest of the reporters probably did not know, but these three did. They knew all along what Bruno planned to do. Or at least had a pretty good idea. The other members of the press were being questioned. Ben would wait until he talked it over with his intelligence people before making up his mind what to do with these three. But he already knew he couldn't shoot them.

The liberal press outside the SUSA would have a field day with that.

"You three have just confirmed what I have suspected all along about the left wing of your political party," Ben said softly. "I have long felt that you people are totally ruthless; that you will do anything to gain power. I felt that was true before the Great War, and I certainly feel that way now. The end justifies the means, right? You people are much more vicious than I have ever been. Back before the Great War, you used government agents to hara.s.s and sometimes-and as the end approached-oftentimes kill any citizen who attempted to break away from your Orwellian dictates. Any citizen who formed a tax protest group, any citizen who refused to pay more than what they considered their fair share of taxes, any citizen who joined a militia or survivalist group, any citizen who dared to loudly protest the government's giveaway programs, any citizen who spoke or wrote too harshly about you liberal c.o.c.ksuckers was setting themselves up for all sorts of trouble. You hated and feared the military, yet sent our young men and283 283.

women all over the world direcdy into harm's way for 'humanitarian reasons.' You G.o.dd.a.m.n liberals make me want to puke. Jersey!" Ben shouted.

She stuck her head into the tent.

"Get these a.s.sholes out of my sight and keep them out of my sight until I decide what to do with them."

The trio gone, Ben sat alone for a time in the silent confines of die big tent. He wasn't really all that concerned about the new left-wing government outside the SUSA making any moves against the SUSA. The newly self-appointed leaders of the left were fully cognizant that Cecil would throw open the gates and introduce them to a taste of h.e.l.l if they tried an a.s.sault against the SUSA. But he felt that another civil war in die States would come in time. It was inevitable: the left just couldn't leave well enough alone. They weren't content widi half a loaf; they wanted the whole bakery.

He sighed. But that was in die future. Perhaps the near future, but not somediing he had to worry about right at this moment.

"Boss," Beth stuck her head into die tent. "There are a bunch of, well, people, I guess you'd call them gathering all around the edges of our perimeter."

"Refugees?"

"I don't know what they are. They look like something out of one of those old sci-fi movies. I mean, diey're really weird-looking."

"Survivors, if that's what you choose to call diem, of Bruno's germ warfare." Ben stood up and picked up his CAR. "Well, let's go meet our new enemy."

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Ben was accustomed to traveling with an oversized battalion and forgot momentarily he was now commanding an oversized brigade. The encampment was huge. Ben was, for a moment, lost. Then he got his bearings (with Beth pointing the way) and was off and running.

Ben reached the outer ring of the encampment and slid to a halt. He stood and stared at the people who were gathering around, pointing and grunting and s...o...b..ring. Some of them were naked, others dressed in rags. Still others were dressed in the skins of animals. "Good G.o.d!" Ben said.

"Their bite might be infectious," Dr. Chase said, jogging up to stand by Ben's side. "It might be more than that," he added. "It might be lethal."

"Wonderful," Ben said. "I think I'd rather be facing a horde of Night People."

"What do we do, General?" a Rebel called.

"Nothing, yet," Ben told his people. "Pa.s.s that word, Corrie. Don't fireon these people unless they attack us."

"Well, they're about to do just that," Cooper said, running up holding his SAW. "They're working themselves up into some sort of frenzy."

Ben couldn't argue that. The mob of misshapen and deformed men and women were jumping up and down and making all sorts of disgusting sounds.

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"Everybody into gas masks!" Ben shouted. "Drive them back with tear gas and pepper gas. Get into masks and start tossing the gas-now!"

Within two minutes, the air was thick with choking, tearing, and eye-burning gas.

"See if your people can grab a couple of those . . . poor b.a.s.t.a.r.ds,"

Lamar said, his voice m.u.f.fled through the mask.

Cor rie relayed the orders just as a few of the maddened natives rushed the outer defense line and were clubbed unconscious. They were dragged inside the line, tied hand and foot, and carried over to a MASH tent.

Lamar wandered off to oversee the testing of the survivors of Bruno's experiment in germ genocide.

The mob dispersed, the hideously deformed men and women running and crawling and staggering blindly away.

"They'll be back," Ben said. "And the next time, we'll have to shoot them. So just get yourselves ready for that." Ben drove over to the mobile field lab, one of the units parked behind a MASH tent.

"Pus," Lamar said to Ben. "And don't come any closer. Their brains are filled with pus. Nearly all thought process has been virtually destroyed. Except one: survival."

"Are they infectious?" Ben asked.