“I have no last name. I … think I am fifteen years old. But I’m not sure. I was born-I thinkin the state of Michigan. I do not remember anything about my parents.”
She was looking at Ben very intently, her eyes serious, mixed with fear. Her direct gaze made Ben uncomfortable.
“Why are you looking at me in that manner, Claudia?”
“Because Sister Voleta says you are evil. She says you are the greatest threat on the face of the earth. She says Ben Raines thinks he is a god, that you want to return to the old ways.”
“I’m not a god, Claudia. But I sure would like to return to the old ways. If the old ways she was referring to meant hard work, honesty, ethics, and everything else that once made this nation great.”
“I know nothing of the old ways you speak of. I remember only hunger and cold and running from gangs of evil men.”
Of course, Ben thought. This child was maybe two years old when the world blew up in our faces. Only two. He shook his head.
Is everything I want to see accomplished before my time is through hopeless?
Ben sighed.
“How much schooling do you have, girl?”
“I … I can read some words. I can figure some, too. But I can write my name!” she said brightly.
That’s more than a lot of young people your age can do, Ben thought. “Tell me about the Ninth Order, Claudia. And don’t be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
“I believe you, Mister Raines. The Ninth Order is all around us. Sister Voleta is the princess of the Ninth Order. They worship both Satan and God. They are not nice people.”
Still a writer at heart, Ben had to fight to hide his smile. Obviously, brevity was Claudia’s forte. “What do you know about us, Claudia? About what my people are trying to accomplish?”
“Nothing. But I do know you have traitors among your ranks. People who wish to replace you as leader of the Rebels.”
CHAPTER TWO
The young girl could not or would not, probably the former, tell Ben any more concerning her statement of traitors among his ranks. She knew only that she had overheard it from men and women of the Ninth Order. That news did not come as any surprise to Ben. So many of the old group was gone. So many of the original people who gave their sweat and blood to build the old Tri-States. Long dead. And with them, some of the fire and passion and longing for justice and freedom and peace.
Ben sent the girl back to her quarters and sat in his tent alone, mentally reviewing some of the new people who had joined the Rebels just recently. And they numbered several hundred.
Lieutenant Dick Carter had joined the group just after the battle in Missouri with the Russian, General Striganov. So had Sgt. Charles Bennett and Capt. Tom Willette and his company of soldiers. And the three men had made friends almost immediately. Coincidence? Ben doubted that. But there was absolutely no way of checking any of the stories the men had told. They had to be accepted at face value. They were all good soldiers, no doubt about that. They knew their stuff. Ben could not fault them as soldiers. They took orders without a gripe, and carried those orders out.
Many of his younger Rebels liked the trio of newcomers. They were easygoing, and … glib, the word came to Ben. Glib. And very slick.
Ben had heard a lot of the rumors attributed to Carter and Willette and Bennett. But none were bad things. Nothing that would constitute any lack of respect for Ben. Things like: “Ben should retire, put his feet up, and enjoy his position.” And: “The man is a living legend.” And this: “General Raines has certainly earned his rest. He needs to be in a fine office, with a general staff around him. I’m worried about him out in the field. God! What if something should happen to the general? Christ! What would we do?”
Ben smiled ruefully. All the remarks that had filtered back to him were spoken solely out of love and respect for the man-so it would appear. But Ben could see, now, the silent insidiousness behind the seemingly loyal words.
What to do?
He didn’t know. Yet.
“I tell ya’ll what,” Captain Willette said to a mixed group of Rebels after evening chow. “General Raines sure scared me this afternoon. Does he have to go out into the field taking chances like that? Damn! Look, I don’t want you folks to think I’m trying to run things around here-you know that’s not what I want. I’d die for General Raines. All of us would. But I’m worried about General Raines. Somebody has got to
convince him to start delegating some of the more dangerous tasks to other people. He’s just got to do that.”
Many of the younger troops under Ben’s command were beginning to vacillate, leaning toward Captain Willette’s views. Even some of the older Rebels, men and women who had been with Ben for years, wanted Ben to retire from the field. They wanted Ben to remain in charge, certainly, but to do so from an office, and when he traveled, to do so with a contingent of bodyguards. Not just with Buck Osgood and a couple of Rebels.
All agreed, mentally if not vocally, General Raines would have to start taking more precautions. If he didn’t do so willingly, then … Well, they would just have to think about doing something. It was a touchy situation. No doubt about that.
At Ben’s orders, Colonel Gray sent a team into Chattanooga the next morning with orders to check out as many survivors as possible, find out what, if any, organization they had and what, if anything, they had planned for the future. If they were willing, they could link up with Raines” Rebels.
Skirting the city of Chattanooga, Ben’s convoy slipped into north Georgia at mid-morning, staying on two-lane country roads. The column slowly made its way east, heading for Interstate 75. When the scouts reported the interstate just ahead, Ben halted the convoy. He had made up his mind to bring the smoldering whisper campaign into full flame. He didn’t know what else to do. If he allowed it to
continue, he knew it could destroy what he had built. He didn’t feel he had any choice in the matter.
“Ike,” Ben said. “Take them on east to Base Camp. Link up with Captain Rayle. I’ll maintain radio contact daily.”
“Where are you going, Ben?”
“I’m taking a platoon and visiting Atlanta. Haven’t been there in a long time. I want to see what is left. Who knows, we may find something worth salvaging.”
“Ben…”
“I’ll see you in a few days, Ike,” Ben cut off any further conversation on the matter. “James!” he yelled. “Get your team together. Let’s roll.”
James Riverson, the senior sergeant in the Rebel army, a man who had been with Ben for many years, nodded and began pulling supplies. At a slight nod from Ben, James began pulling a lot of supplies. The sergeant knew they would be gone much longer than a few days.
Ike opened his mouth to yell his protests at Ben’s actions when Colonel Gray touched him on the arm.
“Relax, Ike,” the Englishman said. “I anticipated this yesterday, saw him studying maps of the city and the Atlanta area. I sent teams of LETTERRP’S out last night. They’ll intercept him about fifty miles north of the city and stay with him. Ben won’t like it. He’ll know who did it. But there won’t be a damn thing he can do about it.”
Ike grinned. “You’re a sneaky bastard, Dan. You know that?”
“But of course,” Dan said, returning the smile. “Besides, with Ben gone, we can get a more accurate
picture as to the next moves from Carter, Willette and Bennett. Those three and their followers are up to no good.”
“Like I said, Dan. You’re a sneaky bastard.” But it was all an act on Ike’s part. Ben had confided in him the night before.
Ben had told only a few of his plans. Dan had been out of pocket when Ben had made up his mind; but Ben knew the Englishman would put it together very quickly and probably have teams of Scouts and LETTERRP’S out in the field to intercept him before he reached Atlanta.
So Ben didn’t go to Atlanta.
He cut east of the interstate at Highway 20 and stayed with it, edging south with the highway, skirting
