her.
“Evan Reynolds,” the man said. “I guess I’m in charge of the militia here, General Raines. I was the first one to shoot to kill. We had spent months cleaning up the town. Hard, back-breaking work. All the while certain … types, stood around and jeered at us, refusing to work. After we’d cleared and swept one particularly filthy block- where the crud lived, by the way-we came back the next day and they had trashed it. They …” He struggled with his emotions for a few seconds. “They dared us to do something about it. There was this one … person. A big, swaggering,
dirty-looking type. You know the type.”
Ben nodded his head. “Only too well.”
Evan said, “He was called Stud. A gang leader. He told me we couldn’t make him or his people do a goddamn thing. Spat at my feet.” Evan paused and rolled a cigarette. He lit it and smoked in silence for a few seconds. “I looked at him, walked back to my truck, got a shotgun, and blew his goddamn worthless head off.”
Ben and Rani waited, each of them knowing it was a terrible memory for the man to dredge up.
“It turned bloody after that,” Evan continued. He looked at another man.
“What was so ridiculous about it,” the Mexican-American said, “was them accusing us of being bigots and anti this, that, and the other thing.” He laughed bitterly. “As you can see by looking around the room, General Raines, we are a real mixing bowl of people here. Dan,” he said, pointing, “is Apache. Mrs. Yee is Chinese. You have eyes, you can see. We just took all we were going to take of it. Following the initial shooting, it was a bloody week. But we made this community a nice place to live.” He inspected his fingernails for a moment, silently reflecting. “I won’t say that innocents did not die needlessly. That would be a lie. But there comes a time when one must choose a side, a cause, if you will, and stand by it. While it is not safe once one ventures ten miles outside the city, it is quite safe in the city.”
“And if you were stronger, better armed?” Ben asked.
“Let us say,” the man who would be later introduced as Mr. Reyes continued, “we would not be adverse to carrying the message outside the city.”
The group all smiled.
Ben got the message. He returned the smile. “Well, then,” he said. “I believe we can work something out that would be mutually advantageous.” He told the gathering of his idea of an outpost system.
“It could be the start of a return to civilization,” Mrs. Yee said. “And just in time, too. We’re having a difficult time getting schools started for our children.”
“It isn’t easy,” Ben said, and for a flashing moment, his thoughts were full of Jordy.
“To use a clich`e, General,” Evan said. “Nothing worthwhile is ever easy, right?”
“You’re going to take losses,” Ben brought them back to reality. “I’ve lost many good friends along the way.”
“As we all have, sir,” a woman said. “My husband died fighting the street punks.”
Ben stood up. “I’ll contact my base camp, get the ball rolling.”
Ben and Rani once more set out, once more alone in the ashes.
Chapter 30
Ben and Rani headed north out of Flagstaff, on Highway 89. They swung west at Cameron and camped in the Kaibab National Forest. The following morning, Ben gave Rani her first glimpse of the Grand Canyon. As it does with anybody who does not possess the soul of a grub-worm and the imagination of a corpse, her first sighting took her breath away.
“It’s … it’s …” she stammered.
“Magnificent. Awesome. Indescribable,” Ben finished it.
“Yes,” she said, taking his hand and holding on tightly. “You’ve seen it before?”
“Probably a dozen times. It evokes something quite new and different within me with each sighting.”
“I can see why.” She was thoughtful for a moment, gazing down into what had once been described as the greatest example of erosion and the most sublime spectacle in the world. “Wasn’t there a song or something written about this place?”’
Ben got a good laugh out of that, then spent the next few minutes calming Rani, assuring her he wasn’t laughing at her, just at what she said.
“Ferde Grofe wrote the Grand Canyon Suite; just one of his many works. By golly, I just might have that cassette in my truck. I think I do. You’ll love it.”
Back at the campsite, which had not been used as such for many years, Ben found the old cassette and played it for her. She sat enthralled as the loveliness rolled and soared from the speakers.
“It’s so lovely,” she whispered. “I remember it now, from listening to it in high school. I didn’t like it then.”
Ben elected to keep his mouth shut at that. Beginning about 1970, Ben had refused to listen to commercial radio, except for news and weather when traveling. As far as he was concerned, what passed for music-except for classical-from that period up until the Great War, had gone from bad to worse to the pits.
Rani looked at him and smiled. As if having the power to read his mind, she said, “I gather you didn’t think much of the music I grew up with, right, Ben?”’
“That is certainly one way of putting it, dear.”
She laughed. “Looking back, I don’t think much of it, myself.”
“That’s a relief. There is hope for music lovers yet.”
A roar came from the deep and tangled forest to the south of the camp site. Rani jumped about half a foot off the ground.
“A new rock-and-roll singer,” Ben said drily. “Give him a mike and a dress and you’d have a rising new star. For sure.”
“Ben, Jesus! Don’t joke. What in the name of God was that?”
“Mutant, probably. That one, and the others like it in the woods around here, have probably never seen a human. We’d best move into one of the Ranger cabins for the night. Unless you’d like to wake up in the middle of the night with one of them looking at you.”
A minute and a half later, Ben was complimenting Rani on the swiftness with which she could pack.
No mutants had made an appearance during the night, but they let Ben and Rani know they were around, and not liking the human intrusion into their territory. At first light, Ben and Rani left the park area, connecting once more with Highway 89, following that up to alternate 89, turning west across the Colorado River, traveling through the northern area of the Kaibab National Park, and skirting the now deserted Kaibab Indian Reservation.
“I wonder what happened to them?” Rani asked over the CB.
“Slaughtered,” Ben told her. “They were one of the tribes that joined us. In the hopes of achieving a better life standard. And I got them killed.”
“I wish you would stop blaming yourself, Ben. I doubt that you forced them to join you at gunpoint.”
Ben was grim as he said, “I’m pulling over and backtracking. We’ll take 389 through the reservation. I want to see if the government troops left anything standing.”
It was even worse than Ben had imagined. The stories of the Old West he had read as a child came into his mind. Big government’s vindictiveness had been awesome. There was not a building left standing that Ben or Rani could see as they drove slowly through the reservation.
“It’s terrible,” she said in a whisper.
“Yes. I think you’ll say the same thing when you see what they did to the Tri-States. And while I’m thinking about it, Rani,” Ben radioed, “when we get to the Tri-States, don’t leave my side. We booby-trapped almost everything we left behind: houses, barns, vehicles, buildings. You name it, and we wired it to explode. So when we get there, stay close to me.”
“Thank you for remembering,” she replied.
They made camp that evening in what remained of the small town of Colorado City. The town had been stripped clean, right down to the doors, windows, screens, and anything else that wasn’t nailed down or welded in place.
But, as in so many other places, using his pump, Ben managed to fill their gas tanks from underground reservoirs.
