“It’s not exactly a town, sir,” a scout broke in. “It’s a … a commune.”
“Haven’t heard that word in a good many years,” Ben said.
The column was traveling north on Highway 169. What was left of a tiny village just south of Cienega Mountain had been taken over by a new generation of Love Children. Most of the “Flower Children” were about Ben’s age-at least. It was the most ludicrous sight Ben had witnessed in a long time.
A man who had to be at least sixty years old approached Ben’s truck. He was dressed in a dress.
“Is that man dressed in a dress?” Rani asked.
“Sure looks that way to me,” Ben said.
“Baby killers!” the man yelled, waving a plastic flower at Dan Gray.”
“I beg your pardon!” the Englishman said.
Another group of Love Kids appeared. Average age, mid-fifties. They were chanting as they marched. “Hell, no. We won’t go. Hell, no. We won’t go!”
“I think they have the wrong war,” Ben said.
“Ben, they’re pitiful,” Rani said.
“No,” Ben said. “They’re just middle-aged dropouts, that’s all.”
Ben got out of his truck and walked to the group of men and women. There were a few younger people mixed in, some of them with children by their side. It was the damndest mish-mash Ben had ever seen.
“What the hell is with you people?” Ben asked.
“Impeach Nixon!” a man cried. “Make love, not war.”
“Jane Fonda for President!” a woman yelled.
“You people are hiding some outlaws,” Ben roared, quieting the group of … whatever the hell it was.
“They are under a protective shield of the Children of the Orb,” a man informed Ben. “They have renounced their evil past and wish to partake of nature’s blessings. Now take your baby killers and child rapers and destroyers of the land and leave!” The man stamped his foot on the ground.
“Folks,” Ben said, “I don’t want to hurt any of you … citizens. Just hand over the outlaws and we’ll be on our way.”
“One, two, three, four!” a woman who had to be in her late sixties yelled. “We don’t want your fucking war!”
Dan Gray turned his back so Ben could not see him laughing.
A man wearing pink pedal pushers and a see-through blouse ran up to them. “Stop acid rain!” he screamed. He ran back into the crowd.
“Colonel Gray,” Ben called.
Wiping his eyes, his face red from suppressed laughter, Gray turned around. “Sir!”
“Send a team into the … commune. Find the outlaws and bring them out. Do not-repeat-do not hurt anyone of these … people.”
“Yes, sir. Sergeant Morse, front and center.”
The sergeant ran to Gray’s side. “Sir, these people are whacko!”
“Quite right. What puzzles me is why the outlaws have left them alone for so long.”
“Shit, Colonel. They ain’t got nothing for them to steal.”
“That’s probably it. Bring the outlaws out, sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sir!” a voice called. “They’re slipping out the back way.”
“Watergate sucks!” a man yelled.
Even Ben was grinning as he got back into his truck and slipped it into gear. Rani had her face turned so Ben could not see her grin.
Composing herself, she said, “Is there a lunatic asylum close by?”
“Surely there must be. Either that or they all came from California.”
“Oh, Ben!”
It did not take the Rebels long to round up the outlaws. They caught up with them a few miles outside of the commune, heading north.
They were a sorry-looking, shifty-eyed, and scummy bunch.
“You have two choices,” Ben informed them bluntly. “Either way, you die. Tell me where Jake Campo, Texas Red, and West are hiding and what they’re up to, and you get a bullet-fast and quick. If you don’t cooperate, I take you to the next town and hang you. You have one minute to think about it.”
“Fuck you, Raines!” a burly, pus-gutted man said.
“Sergeant!” Ben said. “Take that man,” he pointed. “And tie him securely. Toss him in the back of a truck for hanging.”
“I’ll make a deal with you, Raines,” another outlaw offered.
The toughness that had enabled Ben to build a thriving Tri-States out of the ashes of total world war surfaced. “No deals. You have all heard my only offer.”
“That ain’t much of an offer, Mister Raines,” a third outlaw spoke.
“It’s about the same as you people offered us back in the ghost town,” Ben countered.
“I ain’t no snitch,” the man said.
He was tied up and tossed in the back of a truck with his buddy.
One outlaw broke and ran. Ben lifted his Thompson and stitched him to the ground.
“I’ll tell you all I know,” another outlaw said. “But it ain’t much.”
Fifteen minutes later, the column pulled out. The dead outlaws were left for the coyotes and wild dogs and vultures.
At a long-deserted ranch, Ben hanged the so-called tough boys … and left them dangling at the final end of their rope.
Once more on the road, heading for the first group of outlaws who were bunched up, waiting to ambush Ben and Rani, Rani looked at him.
“You’re a hard man, Mister Raines,” she said.
“Hard times, Miss Jordan.”
“Approximately a hundred outlaws holed up and hiding out in the foothills of the Davis Mountains,” Dan told Ben. “Scouts report they’re dug in for a long fight.” He put a fingertip on the map. “Right here, sir.”
“Any idea what bunch it is?” Ben asked.
“Man with one foot seems to be the leader.”
“West. Tell your mortar teams to go in and begin setting up. We’ll start softening them up at first light.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rani came to Ben’s blankets that night. But as soon as she did, she realized that sex was not on Ben’s mind. She was far too intelligent a person to think it was something she had done, or to believe that sex was the answer to every problem. She was content to lay in Ben’s arms.
“This may sound like a foolish question, Ben. But how long do you think this … this campaign will last?”
“This particular one won’t last long. Funny you should ask that, Rani.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Dan Gray said something very interesting to me just after we bivouacked. I had thought of it several times, but never with much enthusiasm. It appears, Rani, that the Rebels are the only organized force currently operating in North America with anything other than the looting and raping and killing of innocents in mind. It looks like my Rebels have yet another job facing them.”
“Clearing the land of warlords and outlaws and the like,” Rani said, not putting it in question form.
“Yes.”
“Why, Ben?” she asked, raising up on one elbow to look at him in the darkness. “Why does it always have to be Ben Raines and his people?”
Ben was silent for a time. “Rani, after the war of “88, my people were the only ones who had the courage to stand up to the central government and say to them: No! No, you will not take our guns. No, you will not dictate terms to us. No, we will not bow down and kiss your ass. We were the only ones to build something constructive out of the ashes of war. The only ones, Rani. Our kids grew up with a different set of values. We stressed order and discipline and obeying the laws of our Tri-States. We didn’t stifle free speech or forbid a free press-as a lot of people
