and hate. “You put your goddamn hands on my daughter and I’ll kill you! All of you! Can’t subject a young girl to that kind of treatment… that’s my daughter… she’s only…”
He stopped his screaming tirade and stood silent, trembling with rage. It was very quiet in the auditorium. The chief of police looked hard into the eyes of Ben. He knew he’d been sandbagged. All his words about law and order were a lie. He would have behaved just like any other parent and the law be damned.
Ben faced the crowd. “None of you have to be afraid of the law anymore. Put the people you want behind the badges, put the laws you want to be enforced on the books. That’s the democratic way to do it. The law is to be respected, not feared. One way or the other, the hassle is over.”
He looked at James Riverson. “James, take this young cop to the locker room.” He found the parent in the crowd. “Mister, you want your lick at him, man to man?”
The angry parent’s smile was grim. “You better believe it, General.”
Ben jerked his thumb in the direction of the locker room. “Have a good time.”
FOUR
Ben watched as James came out into the hallway by the stage. The big ex-truck driver grinned and gave a thumbs-up sign for victory. Before he reached the stage, there was a terrific crashing sound from the locker room. A man’s body smashing into a metal locker might make a similar sound. All listened for half a minute to the sounds of fistfighting. “Somebody is gettin’ the shit beat out of them,” a citizen spoke.
“You won’t get away with this!” the sheriff yelled from the stage. Ben turned to face the man, but the sheriff wasn’t speaking to him. He was addressing the townspeople.
“Have your fun,” the sheriff shouted. “But these… hoodlums will be leaving town shortly, then by God we’ll see who runs this country—this town. Goddamn you, law and order will prevail—I’ll see to it.”
Ed Vickers jumped to his feet and ran down the center aisle. He moved well for a fat man. “I don’t like your attitude, Sheriff.”
Crashing noises from the locker room.
Ed shook his finger at the sheriff. “By God, the people didn’t put you in office, Jennings; but the people will damn sure remove you. And as to who runs this country—this town, the
Crash. A yell of pain. A curse. Another crash.
“Are you condoning that type of justice?” the sheriff asked. “That’s nothing but vigilante justice.”
“No, it isn’t,” the mayor disagreed. “That’s just two healthy adult men fistfighting. And that’s been going on for five thousand years before Christ. But, as far as vigilante action goes, maybe it takes something like that to get a town back to dead center again.”
Crash.
Ed looked at Ben. “I don’t agree with everything this man advocates; I didn’t agree wholly with his Tri- States. But most of what he says makes sense to me. This is
The fistfighting parent walked back into the auditorium. His shirt was half ripped off and there was a thin trickle of blood from his mouth. But he was smiling.
“Somebody better get a doctor for that punk,” he said. “I know I busted some of his ribs and I know I kicked out some of his teeth. Other than that, he’ll live.”
“Is the debt paid?” Ben asked.
“As far as I’m concerned, it is.” The man used a piece of his shirt to wipe blood from his chin. He looked hard at the sheriff and the chief. “It’s over, boys. I’ll be carrying a pistol with me from now on, just in case any of you want to try anything. If you do I’ll kill you both.”
He walked back to his place and took his seat beside his wife.
Ben spoke into the mike. “We’ll bivouac around your town tonight. Tomorrow we’ll be gone. Radford now belongs to the people. What you make of it is entirely up to you. Good night.”
VP Lowry sat with his back to the roomful of men and women. He sat staring out the window, in reality, looking at and seeing nothing. He had been badly shaken by the events of the past few days. Portions of nine states were now under solid Rebel control… more threatened. The people were in revolt. Sons-of-bitches hadn’t turned over their firearms after all. They had buried them! Now, in addition to their arms, Raines was arming the citizens wherever he went, with weapons taken from guard and reserve units and disarmed federal police.
The Army, Air Force, Marine Corps, and Navy still would do nothing to stop the Rebels. They would only assure Lowry they would act if Richmond was threatened. Act how? was the thing that bothered Lowry.
And President Addison just behaved as if nothing had happened.
Maybe, Lowry thought, the old man’s plan was the way to go. Since they had discussed it, Lowry had become unsure. But now…
And Lowry was becoming more and more unsure of Al Cody. Something was wrong with the man.
Lowry swiveled in his chair and faced the group around him. “Well, ladies, gentlemen, ideas, anyway?”
“Not unless we can include the military,” Senator Slate said.
“We can’t,” the VP replied. Lowry noticed Sam Hartline smiling. “What in the hell do you find so amusing at a time like this?”
“I have an idea how we can get rid of Ben Raines and perhaps the entire Rebel movement,” the mercenary said.
The VP leaned forward. “How?”
Just as Krigel and Hazen and Conger and Ramos were doing in their sectors, Ben’s Rebels rolled through the Virginia countryside. They were now only a few miles south of Roanoke. Their plans were to drive on to Charlottesville, then turn east to Fredericksburg. There, they would wait for Hector’s people to punch up from North Carolina, halting at Petersburg. By that time, Ben felt, Lowry would be ready for a sit-down and talk.
There had been hard resistance from federal agents and federal police and a few guard and reserve units. The Rebels had crushed it, brutally. They had taken casualties: twenty-nine dead, seventy wounded. But the toll on the federal people, including Hartline’s men, was staggering by comparison. Fresh graves marked the battle sites all along the Rebel route.
Now, the Rebels were adamant in their refusal to take prisoners; they had no place to keep them, did not have the time for political indoctrination. If you fought the Rebels, you were dead. The enemy knew better than to attempt any surrender.
Recruits were joining the Rebels at the rate of more than twenty per day, usually men and women between the ages of eighteen and thirty. Ben incorporated the best of them into his regular ranks, using the rest as drivers, cook’s helpers, runners, and any small jobs that would free his experienced men and women for combat.
Ben sent a company into the middle of Virginia to a national guard camp. They returned with sixty trucks loaded with arms, ammo, clothing, and food.
Other Rebel units had fared just as well in personnel, equipment, and supplies. All units had—at Ben’s orders—bypassed the cities, focusing their attention on the small towns and communities. The larger towns remained cordoned off and under martial law from the federal police. Ben’s Rebels ignored them.
The evening meal over, Ben and Dawn were relaxing. His command post, for that night, was the home of a man so overjoyed to see the Rebels and be free of federal police, he insisted Ben use his home for as long as the Rebels remained in the area. Ben had gladly accepted; it had been a long time since any of them had enjoyed the comforts of a lived-in home. He was enjoying the glass of brandy and reading about himself in the
“Hey, Cec,” Ben called, as his friend appeared in the foyer. “Don’t be so formal. Come on in and have a glass of brandy with us. I…” He cut his sentence when he noticed the young man with Cecil. “Anybody I should know?” Ben grinned.
