absolutely necessary. The KKK has taken over that city, and it would be terribly difficult for me to restrain myself if confronted.” It was a typical understated British remark from Dan. “We’ll hook up with 20/59 and take that into Mississippi. We’ll stay with 20 all the way across Louisiana. Recon teams-go!”
“Way we’re movin”,” a young Rebel said sadly, “time we get to West Texas, General Raines will have already killed all the outlaws.”
“Quite,” Dan replied.
“Sure you won’t stay with us, General?” a cowboy asked Ben. “You’re sure welcome to.”
“I thank you, but I’m traveling; showing Jordy the country.”
“And getting away from the reins of leadership while you’re at it, huh, General?” a silver-haired man said with a grin.
“Sounds like you know about the headaches, too?” Ben said.
“Very much so,” the man said. “I was elected leader of this hardy little band. I’m stuck with it. Ben, we like your idea of outposts. When you’ve got it all worked out, come back. You can count on us.”
“I’ll be back,” Ben assured. “Or someone from my command will.”
“Be careful out there.” The man jerked his thumb. “The outlaws, warlords, and assorted scum have tried to move in on us many times. They finally quit early this year. We were killing too many of them. But they’re still roaming around like packs of scavengers.”
“How well I know,” Ben said. He shook hands with a few of the people and pulled out onto Interstate 20.
The people of Pecos had warned him that south of Interstate 10 was no-man’s land. The only holdouts were a few people at Alpine, Fort Davis, and Marfa. South of those towns?… He had only shaken his head.
Ben and Jordy drove as far as Van Horn. It was a ghost town, having been looted and ravaged many times, and then burned. The burning of the small town seemed to Ben to be more an act of vandalism; senseless, pointless.
He turned north on 54, heading for New Mexico. Halfway to the border, Ben found the highway impassable and was forced to backtrack to Van Horn.
Ben checked his map. He was hesitant about going to El Paso, for he had heard many stories about the destruction there. He looked at Jordy.
“Where to, little Man?”’
“I’m with you, Ben.” The boy smiled. “But I’ve already seen where we’ve been.”
Ben laughed. “It’s too dangerous to head south, Jordy. We-was
A bullet whined off the top of the cab. Another slug slammed into the camper. Ben twisted the steering wheel, pointing the nose of the truck west. A bullet ripped through the windshield, just missing Jordy’s head.
“Get on the floorboards, Jordy!” Ben yelled, spinning the wheel, heading south. West and east were blocked with unseen snipers; north was impassable.
“That doesn’t leave us much choice, boy,” Ben muttered.
Slugs clanged and slammed into the rear of the truck as Ben floorboarded the pickup, the big engine roaring, back tires biting into the road. The pickup fishtailed, then straightened out as Ben found the highway marker for 90 and headed southeast, toward Marfa.
“Going to get tough, Jordy,” Ben said, as the boy crawled off the floorboards and back into the seat.
“We’ll make it,” Jordy said. “I been in tougher spots than this.”
Ben didn’t doubt that at all.
Chapter 14
Rani carefully checked both trucks as best she knew how. She had filled the gas tanks of the vehicles and had ten five-gallon gas cans filled and stored. In Ozona, she had found a small, two-wheeled trailer, and that was now loaded with food, blankets, clothing, and cans and bottles of water. She would pull that behind her truck.
“Who’s Davy Crockett?” Robert asked, pointing to the monument of the man.
Rani snapped her fingers. “Books!” she said. “Got to get some books and pencils and paper so you kids can study and do homework.”
But she had seen scurrying shapes of humans ducking in and out of the ruined stores of the town, and did not wish to linger long in the town proper.
“Later,” she said. “But I’ve got to do it.”
She breathed a little easier when she was outside of the town, on the interstate. She had carefully plotted her route, writing the directions down and pinning them to the sun visor.
Interstate 20 west to Sheffield. Highway 349 south to
Dryden. 90 west to Marathon. 385 south, then west to Terlingua.
She said a silent prayer the roads would all be open and no outlaws would spot them.
If there was a God, that is, she thought.
She shook that blasphemy from her mind. Of course there is a God.
And it wasn’t Ben Raines.
Was it?
Twelve miles out of Van Horn, at the tiny deserted town of Lobo, Ben pulled off the highway.
“Close back there, Jordy.”
“I must be gettin” used to it, Ben.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t need to change underwear.”
Ben laughed and he and Jordy got out of the truck. Ben lit one of the few cigarettes he allowed himself per day. After a few moments of silence, man and boy enjoying their closeness and the silence of nature, Ben stirred.
“I think I got us in a box, boy. I have a bad feeling about that.”
Jordy stood and looked at the man.
“Folks back there where we stopped told me the town of Valentine was deserted; all the people there having moved to Marfa. They’ve formed a sort of a triangle of safety. You know what a triangle is, Jordy?”
“No, sir.”
Using his map, Ben showed Jordy the rough triangle, with Fort Davis at the top, Marfa and Alpine at the bottom corners.
“The folks are shooting first and asking questions later, boy. And I don’t blame them. So we’re not going to risk getting shot. See this county road here, Jordy, just before you get to Marfa?” The boy nodded his head. “We’re going to take that all the way to the Mexican border and link up with 170, gradually work our way out of this mess.” I hope, Ben silently added.
Ben radioed in to Captain Nolan and informed the captain of his route.
Ben looked at his map. “I’ll meet you boys at Terlingua,” he said.
“Ten-four, General.”
Nolan’s radio operator tried to contact Colonel Gray, but for some reason she could not get through to the column. She really didn’t think too much of the difficulty, for any traffic of late had been scratchy. The belt of radioactivity that had encircled the globe since the wars of ‘88 had affected weather and communications. The winters were getting much harsher and longer,” and the growing season shorter.
She reported the difficulty to Captain Nolan.
“First high range we come to, try again,” he told her. “Right now, we’ve got to move and move fast. The general’s getting in even over his head.”
He turned to his command, who were gathered around.
“We roll,” Nolan said flatly. “Day and night, we roll. If you’re not driving, sleep. We’re not going to fuck around with anybody or anything. Move out.”
“What the hell do you mean, you can’t get in touch with Colonel Gray or Captain Nolan?” Ike asked, an edge to his voice. “Goddamn it, we have the finest communications equipment in the world!”
The communications expert backed up a step. The ex-Navy SEAL’S abilities as a cut, slash, and stomp guerrilla fighter were almost as much a legend as General Raines. “I’m sorry, sir. But it’s impossible to reach them. At least for the next couple of days. Maybe longer than that.”
