William Johnstone - Out of the Ashes

“It wasn’t a double or even a triple cross Adams was pulling off—it was more than that.”

“Keep talking.”

“I always figured Logan was hiding something. I never did like or trust that man. He’s a pseudoliberal, isn’t he?”

The general smiled.

“The Bull won after all.”

“No, Adams won,” the general said. “The Bull killed him, somewhere up in New York State, way I heard it. Logan was the mastermind behind the whole caper. The hitch came when the Rebels found out about Logan and Logan found out the Rebs were gonna shoot him if they ever got their hands on him. He is not a well-liked man among conservatives, son.”

“Now, wait just a minute.” Ben held up his hand. “This is getting a little complicated. The Rebels didn’t know Logan was really behind it all?”

“That’s the way I hear it. Neither did Colonel Dean… until the very last, oh, eight or ten days before the balloon went up.”

“But… why would Logan hide his true feelings all these years? For what purpose?”

“To be the most popular liberal in the world, Raines. Hell, the minorities loved him. He was a shoo-in for the White House. He only had the Rebels as a backup in case he lost. But everything went haywire: coups all over the world; a minor revolt in Russia; the Thunder-strikes; the Rebs in the sub.”

“I see,” Ben said slowly. “He… once he got into the White House, then he could show his true colors and with the military behind him—and something tells me they would back him—he would be more than president, wouldn’t he, General?”

“He’d be king.”

“Logan is going in to help all the poor third-world nations after he gets you people organized, isn’t he, General.”

“It’ll take… oh… four to six years. Maybe eight.”

“To colonize.”

“Ugly word, Raines.”

“The truth sometimes is, boy .”

The general chuckled.

“Adams couldn’t convince his people that Logan was really a good guy. His people wouldn’t buy it,” Ben conjectured. “And once Adams leveled with them about Logan, they refused to back Adams and Logan.”

The general nodded his head, only once.

“You were part of it, weren’t you, General?”

Again, the nod.

“But… why?”

“Oh, hell, Raines. Nobody really likes niggers or Jews or greasers. They’re all fuck-ups. They’re not equals. We’ll use them to serve us, work for us, but not side by side. And that isn’t my plan—that’s Logan’s plan.”

“Separate but not quite equal, eh?”

“More or less.”

“It’ll never work, General.”

The general’s face brightened. “Sure it will, boy. You don’t know the American people like I know them. Deep down, boy, we’re the master race. Besides, we’ve got the guns—most of them. And the military will be revered in our society—not like it used to be. Logan plans to resettle the people, reeducate them, kind of reprogram them, so to speak. All at the same time he’s offering the hand of good fellowship to the jungle-bunnies in Africa.”

“Changing the subject momentarily, General—you don’t mind if I stall for a bit more time?”

“Not at all, since you’re not leaving this club alive.” The general’s eyes were hard.

Ben had figured that out all by himself. Under the table, he slipped the M-10 off safety, speaking just a bit louder to cover the metallic click. “How come, General, we survived, and so many others didn’t?”

The cassette recorder was rolling, taping it all.

“Good question, Raines. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and reached this conclusion: beats the shit outta me.”

“For a fact, General, the truth: Russia and China?”

“Gone. Hell, boy—you don’t think we actually destroyed all those nukes, do you, back when the final SALT was signed? No way. There is nothing left, sonny. Human, that is.”

“Fallout?”

“We’ll be getting some—but don’t worry, you won’t be taking any of it. We won’t be taking much. Too many clean bombs used.”

“You men in on the general’s plan to be part of the master race?” Ben asked the trio.

“All the way, partner,” the captain said. The sergeants nodded.

Ben pulled the trigger of the M-10, working the weapon from left to right, clearing the room of all living things in front of its stuttering muzzle.

He rose from his half-crouch to look at the carnage he had wrought. They were all dead. He got into his truck and drove to the communications center of the base. He stood for a moment looking at the maze of electronic equipment. None of it looked familiar. He finally managed to turn on what he hoped was a radio transmitter and set the dial to 39.2. He keyed the mike and watched the VU meter jump with needle action.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “This is Ben Raines,” he spoke slowly. “I hear you people have been looking for me.”

“How do we know you’re Ben Raines?” a voice jumped back at him. “We’ve had two dozen crank callers.”

“How do I know you’re who you claim to be?” Ben challenged.

“The Bull told us about the last time you two saw each other. He shouted something to you as he stood in the door. We know what he said. And if you’re Ben Raines, so will you. Do you remember those two words?”

“Bold Strike,” Ben said.

“Sorry, General Raines, sir. But we had to be certain. Lot of snooping going on.”

“General!” Ben blurted. “Man, I’m not a general.”

“Yes, you are, sir. Begging your pardon.”

“I’d like to know just who in the hell told you that!”

“Colonel Dean, sir.”

“A colonel can’t make anybody a general.”

“The Bull can—and did, General.”

Ben released the mike button. “Shit!” he said. “Now what?” He pushed the mike button. “How… ah… do I scramble this thing?”

“On which end, sir?”

“Both ends!”

“What is the number on the transmitter facing?”

Ben looked, found about forty-eight different numbers. He settled on the largest number that seemed permanent.

“Look to your left, sir,” the voice told him. “A switch with the word ‘scramble’ just above it. Flip the switch.”

Ben looked. There it was. He felt like an idiot. “Some general I am,” he muttered. Keying the mike, he said, “Am I scrambled?”

“Repeat, sir.”

Ben repeated.

“Scrambled now, sir.”

Ben informed the voice of what had just transpired in the service club.

“Yes, sir. We know Logan is planning worldwide power play under the guise of a good-neighbor policy. But our immediate concern is: what do we do?”

“Are you people nationwide?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you handle explosives?”

“We can do anything with explosives, General.”

“I am not your general!”

“Yes, sir.”

Ben sighed. He waited.

“General Raines? Are you still there?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Ben punched the mike button. “You wanna know what you can do? I’ll tell you: you can order your people to slip onto every military base in this nation and destroy every goddamned plane they find.”

“Yes, sir, very good, sir. That will prevent Logan from getting the jump on us. We have men among us who can fly those planes, sir. Shall we take some for our use?”

“What use!” Ben yelled.

“For the defense of our nation, sir.”

“What fucking nation!” Ben screamed.

“The one the Bull told us you had planned. The one you used to talk about in ‘Nam.”

Ben’s sigh was long and frustrated. “By all means… ah… to whom am I speaking?”

“Lieutenant Conger, sir.”