“One of the men had a pistol in a holster, and some bullets for it in loops. I took all those. I got in the pickup and drove off. Kind of. It was one of those four on the floor types. I knocked the whole porch down before I figured how to get the damn thing out of reverse. It was embarrassing.
“I found some people a little while later and they were very nice. They told me they heard St. Louis had blown up. So I headed for Columbia. My parents had friends there that taught at the university. They took me in. There’s a whole lot more, but that’s the high points. Except for this:
“I am tired of running. I am tired of being alone. I am tired of being scared. I do not want to be alone ever again. Do you understand what I am saying, Ben Raines? I mean, really understand it?”
He looked at her and full comprehension passed silently between man and woman.
“Yes, I do,” Ben told her.
“Fine.” She smiled and mischief popped and sparkled in her dark eyes. “Then keep your eyes on the road, Ben. You’re not the best driver I’ve ever ridden with, you know?”
CHAPTER SIX
Ottumwa contained more people than Ben had seen theretofore in any one place. And Ben noticed that most of them were armed, with both side arms and rifles.
He ordered his convoy to a halt and got out to speak with some of the people. He was greeted courteously, if not, at first, warmly.
So spotty were communications throughout America that some of the people did not even know Ben had been in and out of the White House at Richmond.
Ben commented on the highly visible arms.
“Had to go to it,” a man told him. “First those awful things were around-you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
Ben nodded. “Mutants.”
“Yeah. Then the IPF came nosing around, spewing that communistic bullshit. We ran them out of town, but they just spread out all around here, all around us. They got a firm hand and hold on Waterloo, conducting classes at the college, and lots of folks are being taken in by that line. But not us.”
“How far up north do they extend?”
“All the way up into Canada, so I hear tell. But it’s a funny-odd-type of communism. Not like the way it was in Russia before the bombings.”
“Yet,” Ben said.
The man smiled. “Yeah. Say, why don’t you folks spend the night here? We have running water, electricity, all the comforts. Well, most of them. We can talk about what to do about the IPF.”
“I’d like that,” Ben said with a smile. He stuck out his hand. The man shook it.
“You’re sure you won’t reconsider and make the move down south with us?” Ben again asked. “Join up with us.”
Dinner had been delicious. The people of Ottumwa had opened up their homes to the Rebels, eager for company and for some news of happenings on the outside. The days of turning on a radio or TV for news and entertainment were long gone… and for many would never return.
The Iowan smiled and shook his head negatively. He refilled their cups with hot tea. Coffee was now almost unknown. The tea was a blend of sassafras root and experimental tea leaves grown in South Carolina and in hot houses.
“I don’t believe so, General. This land around here is still some of the best farm land in the world, and me and the wife have been farming it for some years now. Think we’ll just stay on.”
“And if the IPF returns?” Ben asked. “In force, with force?”
“We do try not to think about that, General Raines.” the man’s wife said. “But we’re not always successful in doing it.”
The farmer said, “If that happens, General Raines, look for us to join you.”
“I’ll stay in contact, try to warn you in time to get out.”
“We’d appreciate that, General.”
“But if you see it coming at you, don’t wait until it’s too late,” Ben cautioned.
“There’s about three hundred of us rebuilding around here,” the man said. “And we’re all armed and know how to use the weapons.”
“The Russians have between five and ten thousand troops,” Ben replied.
The man paled. “Then well have to give your suggestion some heavier consideration, General.”
The convoy pulled out the next morning, rolling northward. They halted at the junction of Highways 63 and 6 while a team was sent into Grinnell College to inspect.
Ben stood beside Gale, both of them leaning against the fender of the pickup. They heard the plane coming and looked up at the twin-engine prop job as it dipped lower, coming out of the north.
“It’s unarmed, General!” a spotter called, viewing the plane through binoculars. “But its markings show it’s an IPF aircraft.”
“Stand easy,” Ben told his people.
Paper fluttered through the air as the plane did a slow fly-by. The pilot waggled his wings, banked to the north, and was gone before the bits of paper had fallen to the earth.
Gale snagged one of the falling leaflets and handed it to Ben. After she read it. Ben waited patiently.
TO: PRESIDENT-GENERAL BEN RAINES FROM: GENERAL GEORGI STRIGANOV MY DEAR MR. RAINES: I AM WAITING IN WATERLOO TO MEET WITH Y. I WILL MEET YOU ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE CITY, SOUTH SIDE, AT THE CITY LIMITS SIGN. IF YOU WISH, COME ARMED. I WILL NOT BE ARMED AND NEITHER WILL ANY OF MY P. LOOKING FORWARD TO MEETING WITH YOU AND SHARING SOME INTELLIGENT CONVERSATION.
GEORGI
“I wouldn’t trust a goddamn Russian any further than I could spit,” a Rebel said.
Colonel Gray smiled, anticipating Ben’s reply. He was not disappointed.
“I think that probably has a great deal to do with the shape of the world at the present time,” Ben said. “But the Russians never inspired a great deal of confidence in me, either. Colonel Gray?”
“Sir?”
“Take a team and reconnoiter the situation. Do not fire unless you are fired upon. If you meet with any of General Striganov’s people, set up day after tomorrow for the meeting and report back to me immediately.”
“Sir.” The Englishman saluted and called for three other Rebels to join him. They left within five minutes in two Jeeps.
“Corporal.” Ben looked at the radio operator. “Get on the horn and have Colonel McGowen get his people up and moving. I don’t want to risk a night landing using vehicle headlights, so tell him to use the airstrip just outside of town and I’ll expect him no later than 1200 hours tomorrow. I’ll be waiting.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismount and make camp,” Ben hollered.
“You are?” Colonel Gray asked the uniformed young man.
“Lieutenant Stolski, sir, IPF.”
“Nice old Welsh name,” Dan muttered under his breath. “Well, Lieutenant, are we going to be civilized about this, or do we draw a line with the toe of a boot and dare each other to step over it?”
The young IPF officer laughed and stuck out his hand. “I have some excellent tea in my quarters, sir. Would you join me for a cup?”
Dan shook the offered hand. “Delighted, son.”
The four old, prop-driven planes were airborne within an hour after receiving Ben’s orders. The planes were old, but in excellent mechanical condition, the motors rebuilt from the ground up. The four planes carried two full companies of hand-picked Rebels, in full combat gear.
The planes had refueled in central Missouri and spent the night there. They were circling the small airport outside Grinnell, Iowa at 1150 hours.
Ben had arranged transportation (thousands of vehicles
around the nation were still operable after a bit of servicing) and the troops mounted up and were rolling after guards were placed around the aircraft.
