“Why?” Cecil Jefferys asked, in a much calmer tone of voice. The black man possessed the ability to remain calm under the worst of circumstances.
“Radioactivity, sir. The only way I can explain it is like this: The belt of radioactivity that has surrounded the earth since the bombings of “88 appears to have tightened, firmed, become more of a mass.”
“I understand tightened, son,” Cecil said. The ex-teacher and former Green Beret had been with Ben since the outset. During Ben’s short tenure as President of the United States, Cecil had been sworn in as Vice President. The first black vice-president in the nation’s history.
And the two of them had almost pulled the nation further still out of the ashes of war. They came very close. But the gods of fate had chosen that time to laugh and howl at the efforts of those who chose democracy over anarchy, freedom over slavery, enlightenment over ignorance.*
“Keep trying,” Cecil told the communications technician.
“Yes, sir.” He left the room.
Cecil and Ike walked to the big window of the *Fire in the Ashes commanding general’s office and looked out. People were working dawn to dusk rebuilding and renovating the once-deserted town, building schools and clinics, stores and warehouses.
“All we can hope is that short-range transmissions are getting through,” Cecil said.
“Yeah,” Ike said glumly.
Cecil looked at the man. “Don’t start getting it in your mind that you’re hitting the rescue trail after Ben. I need you here, and you know it.”
“I know that, buddy,” Ike said. “But that don’t keep me from worryin’.”
“You’re not alone in that,” Cecil said.
Ben and Jordy prowled through what was left of Valentine, Texas. Ben knew he was about to take them through an area of the country that was often short of water. Ben told Jordy to start looking for containers.
Ben found an old two-wheeled open-topped trailer and spent the rest of the day working on it. He found two tires in fairly good shape that would fit and a spare that looked as though it might have a few more miles left on it. Using his siphoning pump, Ben brought up enough gas to top his tanks and refill his cans. In a ransacked store, he found some cans and bottles of food. Most of the cans were swollen with contamination, but he found about two cases that still looked good. He wondered, after all the years, how much nutrition remained in the food?
Ben used some water to prime a hand pump, and after a few futile tries, out came water, clear and cold and good tasting. They filled up every can and bottle they had with them and those they could find among the ruins, carefully wrapping the bottles with rags to prevent breakage.
In the entire once-thriving little town, Ben and Jordy could find only six blankets and two big tarps that had escaped the ravages of looters. Ben found a few articles of clothing that would fit Jordy, and a good pair of boy’s lace-up boots.
Several times during the afternoon, Ben would look up and catch the glint of sunlight from lenses of binoculars from the hills. He knew they were being watched, but the question was: by whom?
As dusk began spreading purple fingers over the land, creating shadows throughout the town, Ben pulled his truck and trailer behind a store on the west side of the town.
“I’m hungry, Ben,” Jordy said.
“No fires, Jordy,” Ben told him, handing him a can of Crations. “Eat this. We’ll be pulling out as soon as it’s full dark.”
“You think we got trouble?”
“Yes.”
At full dark, Ben cranked his truck. Running without lights, he drove carefully and slowly out of the town. He drove almost ten miles without headlights. He found a dirt road leading off to the southwest and took it, driving almost a mile before pulling over.
“We’ll camp here, Jordy. No fires. We’ll have our big meal at noon while we’re traveling. That way the fire won’t be so noticeable. We’ll gather dry wood that makes little smoke. You go on to sleep now. I’ll stand guard for a few hours.”
The boy was asleep a few seconds after he slipped into his blankets and closed his eyes. Ben began his lonely vigil.
Rani heard the men coming, walking as quietly as they could through the night. She reached for the AR-15 she had taken from the survivalist’s basement cache and slipped it off safety. She cut her eyes to Robert, just a few feet away from her. The boy held a shotgun in his hands, ready. To her left, Kathy was alert and waiting, the lever action .30-30 ready.
The outlaws had tracked her little convoy all day; she had listened to them talk back and forth on the CB. And the things they said had been perverted, ranging far past filthy.
She had told the kids that when she opened fire, to do the same. She had absolute faith in them to do just that. With the exception of the very youngest, they all knew what lay in store for them should the outlaws take them; all of the older kids were victims of sexual abuse from adults.
The shapes of the men became more distinct, looming ominously out of the night.
Rani waited.
When they were no more than thirty yards away, she raised her weapon and opened fire. The booming of the shotgun and the bark of the .30-30 joined the crack of Rani’s AR-15. Muzzle flashes lashed and leaped into the night.
“Kill them all!” Rani screamed.
Each of the three had a spare weapon on the ground beside them. As the weapons they were using ran out of ammo, they dropped their empties and jerked up the spares.
Rani, Kathy, and Robert gave no mercy to the outlaws. They didn’t delude themselves into believing they killed them all, but they knew they had inflicted heavy losses upon the men.
The sounds of engines cranking up and the spinning of rear tires in the dirt and sand came to the woman and the kids.
“Take all the guns and bullets!” Rani shouted. “And be careful. Some of them might still be alive.”
The weapons and ammo collected from the dead and dying, Rani yelled for the kids to head for the trucks. By the road, they discovered another truck and a Jeep wagon. Both vehicles were filled with gas, with spare gas cans front and back, in frames. The vehicles held food and blankets and other gear she could not identify in the dark.
“Kathy, Jane! You’re going to have to drive these vehicles. We need these supplies. Can you do it, kids?” Rani asked.
The girls nodded their heads.
“Let’s go. I’ll take the lead. Robert, you bring up the rear. Kathy and Jane, you’ll be in the middle. We’ve got to get out of here.”
The girls-really already young adults, for their lives had been hard, with little time for the joys of youth-got behind the wheels of their respective vehicles, adjusted the seats, and cranked the engines.
“We’re ready, Miss Rani,” they called.
The short convoy pulled out into the darkness.
Rani led them for thirty miles before pulling over behind a farm house. There, she set up guards while the rest slept. At first light she would inspect their newly acquired booty and travel on. According to her old map, they had a hundred and seventy miles to go.
A hundred and seventy miles.
She shook her head. God, she was tired.
Chapter 15
Ben and Jordy hit Highway 2810-96 it could still be called a highway-an hour after first light. With any kind of luck at all, they would make Ruidosa before dark. Or, correcting that, the outskirts of the town, for Ben wanted to drive through towns during the day. At least during the day he could see what he was shooting at. And who was shooting at him.
They were traveling through desolate country, and the going had been slowed considerably by the trailer they were pulling. Damn thing wasn’t tracking properly, wobbling and wriggling behind them. But at least it was still with
