Ashes - D Day In The Ashes Part 11

Corrie turned to Ben. "You through, boss?"

"Yes. What it is?"

"All battalions in position and ready to jump off."

"Good." Ben stood up. "Pack it up, gang. We push off at first light in the morning." Ben walked out of the room muttering, "Ethically prepared-s.h.i.+t!"

Nine battalions of Rebels, backed by armor and artillery, rolled out at dawn the next day. Some of the other nine battalions would stay in reserve, others would trail along behind those spearheading in thehotter spots, to act as a buffer in case Duffy tried an 142.

William W. Johnstone attack from the rear-which was unlikely; but in war anything is possible.

Caen was very nearly a ghost town, with only a few thousand painfully thin and malnourished people living in the once-thriving city of over 125,000. Ben ordered the columns halted and ordered the medical people up. Chase was traveling with Ben's 1 Batt and immediately set up shop and went to work.

Ben wandered the small city, which now was a shambles, having been picked over and looted many times during the past decade. The churches had been trashed and desecrated.

"They made it through World War Two, but not the reign of punks," Ben said.

"My G.o.d," Beth said, reading from a tattered old tourist book. "This is the Church of La Trinite. It was built in 1062 by William the Conqueror's wife, Matilda."

"Let's go inside. This is the cathedral part, I think."

The others noticed that Ben removed his helmet upon entering the old church. Inside, they stood in shock for a moment. The interior had been torn apart, everything of value taken. Obscene words had been painted on the walls. A better than average artist had painted various p.o.r.nographic scenes of Jesus s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g different women . . . among other s.e.xual acts.

"Why?" Cooper asked, after looking all around him.

"Because they're punks," Ben said. "Worthless punks." Then he jumped toward Beth and rode her down to the floor just as several people with automatic weapons opened up from the rear of the building.

The team scrambled for cover and Ben said, "Cor- 143.

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rie, get some people to the rear of the church. We'll take care of the inside."

While Corrie radioed for help, Ben belly-crawled to a better position and got behind some overturned pews just as a punk opened up out of the gloom of the far interior.

Ben gave him returning fire and the punk's weapon clattered to the floor, followed by the punk. Ben had st.i.tched him from left to right, hip to shoulder. He was dead when he hit the floor.

"All of us on my signal," Ben whispered. "Now!"

Four M-16's and one Thompson opened up on full auto, scattering lead all over the rear of the cathedral. There was one howl of pain--just one-and the wounded punk crawled out of the gloom to flop on the floor, bothhands holding his bullet-perforated belly.

He lay there amid the litter and cussed Ben and the Rebels in French, until he was out of breath. Then he switched to English and let them have it again.

"Coming in!" a Rebel yelled from the back of the building and then kicked in a door. The place filled up with Rebels.

One Rebel stepped up two steps and fired one shot, and that ended the resistance in the old abbey. The Rebels were not known for taking many prisoners.

A very old priest, his clothing tattered and impossibly patched, walked out of the rear of the building, leaning heavily on a cane.

The wounded punk saw him and cried out for him to come give him some blessed comfort.

Ben and the others stood up in silence and watched as the priest limped over to the punk.

144.

William W. Johnstone "I have sinned, Father!" the punk said. "Many times."

The old priest nodded his head. "You d.a.m.n sure have," he said, and then extended the middle ringer of his left hand to the punk and walked away.

The punk died on the church floor, absolute disbelief on his face.

Ben looked at the shocked expressions on the faces of his team. "Priests are human first and men of G.o.d second," he said, then walked out into the sunlight.

145 H&Otteett While the Rebels were hauling out and disposing of the bodies in the old abbey, Ben walked around and found the old priest sitting on a bench.

When he saw Ben, and recognized him for what he was (it never failed to astonish Ben that the whole world knew who he was), the old priest said, "I lost my faith, General. At first I blamed it on G.o.d. But it wasn't G.o.d's fault. I simply lost my faith."

"Bulls.h.i.+t," Ben said, startling the man. Ben sat down beside the old man. "Did G.o.d speak to you and tell you of this loss?"

The priest looked at him. "Hardly. Are you a religious man, General?"

"No. I believe in G.o.d. I believe in some form of heaven and h.e.l.l. But I don't believe that a person can live a life of crime, engaging in the most unspeakable and perverse acts all their life, then, on their deathbed, a human being can say a few words and absolve them of all their sins."

146William W. Johnstom For the first time since Ben had seen the priest, the old man smiled.

"Spoken like a true Protestant."

"Or a realist who was brought up in a Christian home and a man who has been reading the Bible for forty years. You didn't lose your faith. If you had lost your faith, you wouldn't be hanging around here. Maybe, Father, you just finally realized that it's the good people of this world who need you, not the punks and crud. The good people need to be reminded of their duty every now and then. The punks and crud and c.r.a.p don't have what it takes to be a good person . . . much less a Christian. Never have had and never will. Stop worrying about them and concentrate on the people who are struggling to bring order to a world filled with chaos."

The priest looked at Ben, amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes. "End of sermon, General?"

"Yep. Now let's have you checked over by the medics and get some hot food in you. I know a priest who'll be glad to see you."

The people began returning to the city. They crawled out of caves and dugouts and little hidden places and returned to the city they once called home. And they were a pitiful-looking lot, with very few young among them; most of them were middle-aged and up.

"The thugs and degenerates took the young people," Ben was told. "Some were made slaves, some forced into prost.i.tution, others traded to the Night People."

Ben pulled in Paul Harrison's 17 Batt to see to the stabilizing of Caen and moved his 1 Batt on. Ike had 147.

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barreled through the countryside and had pulled up and was waiting at the intersection of Highway 174 and 175 for Ben to pull even. Rebet had secured his sector down to within a few miles of Chateaulin. West was waiting at Corlay. Dan was within a few miles of Highway 164 and holding. Georgi was holding outside of Orbec. Danjou had taken Rouen and was bivouacked a few miles south of the city. Tina was waiting near the town of Gournay-en-Bray, and Pat O'Shea was just outside of Beauvais.

South of the clearly defined battle lines that stretched from Chateaulin over to Paris, Duffy Wil-liams's people waited.

Ben rolled up to the outskirts of the town of Falaise and sent his scouts in to check it out.

"Well, sir, at first glance, we're being welcomed with open arms," the scouts reportedi back. "Looks like the whole town turned out. Food, wine, banners, and music. They plan on tossing us quite a party."

Ben stared at the young man for a moment. "Now tell me what you really think about it."

"I think it's a trap," the scout said, his combat-hardened eyes cold."Duffy's people?"

"No, sir. I think it's those G.o.dd.a.m.n creepies."

"Why?"

"Too well fed, General. They're fat and sa.s.sy."

Ben was silent for a moment. "They pulled this a couple of times back in the States. Our intelligence showed that there are different sects of the creepies. This is one that shuns the robes and the underground.

Well, to h.e.l.l with them. We won't play their game.

148.

William W. Joknstone We'll split the column and throw a loose circle around the town, staying well back, off the road. Let's lay back and see what they do."

When Corrie radioed Ben's orders, the column b.u.t.toned up and split up, engines roaring. The town was soon circled. The Rebels settled down to play a wait-and-see game.

Inside the town the creepies were furious. A young Judge smiled ruefully and said, "They made us. I don't know how they did it, but that is no matter now. Take the children and the young men and fertile women to the tunnels and get them clear."

"And you, Judge?" he was asked.

"I will die here. When those fleeing are clear, take up positions."

The escape tunnels had been dug over a period of many years; long before the Great War tore the world apart. Years before the existence of the Night People was widely known. And now they had been greatly enlarged.

The escape mouth exited out more than a mile from the town.

"Too easy," Ben muttered, standing by the side of his Hummer. "Corrie, how far back is Buck's 15 Batt?"

"Holding three miles behind us."

"Tell him to pour on the coals and get up here. Throw a loose circle around us, a mile between our two batts. Something fishy is going on."

That done and Buck on the way, Ben said, "Tell our people not to open fire until they are fired upon. Then get Lieutenant Bonelli up here.

We're all going for a walk in the countryside."

"We are?" Jersey asked.

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"We are."

"What are we looking for?" Cooper asked.

"Rabbit holes," Ben said.Cooper and Beth exchanged glances, and both shrugged their shoulders just as Bonelli ran up.

"Break your people up into squads," Ben told him, opening a map. "First and second platoons do a half-circle on this side of the highway. The rest start working the other side. Work about fifteen hundred to two thousand meters out. There may be escape tunnels leading from the town. Go."

"Buck on the horn," Corrie said.

Ben took the mic. "Buck? Eagle. The town is full of creepies. But something is all wrong with this situation. They know we've smelled them out, yet they're holding fire. I think they may be buying time, sending people out through tunnels. Watch yourselves."

"Prisoners, sir?" Buck asked what Ben knew was coming.

Ben sighed. He did not relish the idea of shooting kids anymore than the next person. "You can try," he finally said. "We all can. For all the good it will do." He didn't have to explain that. Every Rebel knew that the Night People could not be rehabilitated-from the oldest to the youngest. The why of that was something that still eluded the Rebel doctors and shrinks, even after all these years. They all had seen Rebels try to befriend the children of creepies, only to have the young kids suddenly turn on them savagely with any weapon at hand . . . and then dine on the raw and still-cooling human flesh. It was disconcerting, to say the least. "Bring some explosives," he added.

150.

William W. Johnstone "Right, sir."

No fire came from the town as the searchers spread out and worked slowly, carefully checking out every stand of trees and anywhere else the mouth of tunnels might be hidden. It was Cooper who first spotted movement.

"Up ahead," he called softly. "Two o'clock."

The Rebels immediately dropped belly down to the ground and waited and watched.

Ben watched as two women and a half dozen young kids sprang out of the ground and raced toward the woods. He silently cursed. Even if they had been in range, he still could not bring himself to shoot kids.

The squad leader from Bonelli's company looked at Ben. Ben refused to meet the young woman's eyes. "Let them go," Ben finally said. "Get up there and blow that hole closed."

It amounted to the same thing, but this way was far less personal.

Two Rebels leaped from the ground, each carrying heavy rucksacks filled with C-4. "Warn the others what we're doing," Ben said.

A few minutes later, the ground shook as the C-4 blew. "One hole closed," Ben said. "But they'U be others. Let's go."Fifteen slow minutes later Corrie said, "Buck found another hole. He's blowing it."

Inside the town the creepies could accurately guess what was happening, and it filled them with rage.

"Take a break," Ben ordered. He sat on the ground and took a sip of water, then rolled a cigarette and leaned back against a tree, his brow furrowed in 151.

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thought. "There might be one more short hole," he said. "Probably is.

We'll all work closer to town and see if we can find it."

The second hole was blown, and from the sound of it, it was a good mile from Ben's location. Ben remained where he was after the sound of the explosion had long died away. The Rebels knew why he was not moving. He just didn't want to have to kill kids ... up close and personal.

"Some of the press has just linked up with Buck's 15 Batt," Corrie said, sitting down beside him. "That fellow Greg who wears the fancy jacket and Gina Zapp. Couple of more."

"I thought Zapp worked for Blanton."

"One of the networks that's just getting back in operation."