"Ten-four."

Rani sat it out, watching the highway from behind a shattered window in what had once been a nice home. She saw a dozen vehicles pa.s.s by her position, all heading north. She did not move for several minutes. Then she smiled as she saw a dozen more vehicles drive slowly past, heading north. The second line of cars and trucks, she concluded, belonged to the folks from Lamesa.

It was not that Rani didn't want good homes for those kids in her car. It was just that she didn't trust people. She'd been burned too many times by people professing to be this, that, or the other.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an excited Robert.

"Miss Rani!" the boy said. "They's cases and cases and cases of food down in the bas.e.m.e.nt of this place."

"What were you doing in the bas.e.m.e.nt?" she spoke, more sharply than she intended.

"Exploring," the boy said, hanging his head.

She went to him and put her arms around his slender shoulders. "I'm sorry, Robert. I didn't mean to be cross with you. Let's look at this food." She kissed his cheek. "I'm proud of you, Robert."

Ben caught the movement to his right and twisted the steering wheel just as the man fired. The slug whined off the camper of the truck. Ben floor-boarded the truck and ducked behind a building. Grabbing his Thompson, he said, "Shoot anybody that sticks their head up, Jordy. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. I'll blow their a.s.s off."

"That's as good a place as any to shoot them, I suppose," Ben said, not able to hide his grin.

Ben slipped along the rear of the old store. He heard boots sc.r.a.ping the pea gravel near the corner and smiled, raising the Thompson, finger on the trigger.

"Easy, now," a voice came to him. "I don't want that fancy truck all shot up. And take the kid alive."

"Yeah," a second voice said in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "Clean-lookin' kid lak "at's worth a lot of guns."

Ben's smile turned savage at the vocal implications of what lay in store for Jordy if the men took him. The men rounded the corner and Ben pulled the trigger, firing at almost point-blank range, and he deliberately held the muzzle low, at crotch-level.

He took the men's guns and ammo, and left them screaming and bleeding on the gravel. Here were two who would molest no more children. And Ben hoped they would live a long and totally s.e.xless life. p.i.s.sing through ahose.

Dumping the guns and ammo in the rear of the camper, Ben picked up an M-16 and a pouch of clips.

Slipping to the front corner of the building, Ben located a gun in the second story of an old building; the glint of cold sunlight flashing off a stainless steel barrel gave the man's position away. Ben flipped his M-16 to semi-auto and sighted the man in. He shot the man in the center of his face, the man dropping his rifle to the ground. The fancy rifle landed b.u.t.t first and went off, discharging half a clip of ammo, the lead slamming into trees and buildings and into the air.

"Lennie got 'im!" came the excited shout.

"Come on, boys."

Ben slipped his M-16 to full auto and waited. A knot of men came charging around a corner. They stopped, confused looks on their faces. They stood all bunched up, standing over Lennie's carbine.

"Lennie didn't git him, neither," a man said.

That was the last thing any of them would say or hear, except for the stuttering of an M-16 on full auto.

And they would hear that only briefly.

Ben let them flop on the ground for a few minutes, then he slipped the M-16 onto select fire and put two rounds into each of the bodies. He waited another full minute before zigzagging across the street to gather up their ammo.

Only one of the men had been carrying an M-16 that looked worth a s.h.i.t, and Ben took that. Each man was carrying several full clips of 5.56 ammo.

Ben tossed the rifle and ammo in the camper and looked at Jordy.

"How's it going, little man?"

"Hangin" in, Ben."

Ben checked his map and took a county road out of Rails, heading south. He flipped on his CB radio and was startled to hear all the chatter jumping out at him. He listened carefully, knowing those CB radios must have been jacked up with boosters, giving them a tremendous range.

What he heard was disturbing. Someone named Texas Red, a warlord, was teaming up with another warlord named Cowboy Vic, or some such stupid name.

"Like I said, Ben," Jordy said. "Warlords is everywhere."

"Yes. But who, or what, is Rani?"

"Sounds like a dumb girl to me."

"Listen."

"... and I hear tell that Jake Campo is headin' this way, too," the voice spoke. "He's teamed up with some guy named West."

Ben grunted. "I knew I should have killed that b.a.s.t.a.r.d when I had the chance."

"West?" Jordy asked.

"Yes. He's sc.u.m."

"They chasin' General Ben Raines, so I hear," another voice offered an opinion. "Raines and his Rebels are in Texas?"

"No. Way I heared it, it's just Raines and some snot-nosed punk kid he picked up along the way."

"f.u.c.k you!" Jordy said to the radio.

"How would you like for me to wash your mouth out with soap, boy?" Ben said, looking at him.

"Yukkk!" Jordy said.

"Then watch your language."

"By hisself, or with a bunch," a man said, "Ben Raines is a bad one. I don't want to fool with him. Not none at all."

"You don't believe all that s.h.i.t about him being some kind of G.o.d, do you?"'

"I don't know," the man's voice was serious.

"I heard too many tales about him for some of them not to be true."

"Well, then, you just tuck your tail between your legs and scamper on back home, then. Carry your boys home with you if none of you's got the guts to face up to one skinny, middle-aged man. I'll break that son of a b.i.t.c.h in half like a toothpick."

Ben looked at the radio. "f.u.c.k you!" he said.

Jordy shook his head. "For shame, for shame," he said with a grin.

Chapter 12.

Ben wound around dirt roads until coming to Highway 84. He took that down to Post and there connected with 669. He stayed on that, constantly monitoring his CB, all the way to a tiny town just north of Big Spring. The traffic on his CB had faded into silence by the time he hid his truck behind a falling-down building and decided to call back to Base Camp. He knew perfectly well that Colonel Gray had bugged his truck-and probably some of his personal gear as well-so he could keep tabs on Ben, but Ben had expected that.

It was rather a comforting feeling, Ben had to admit.

"General!" the radio operator almost knocked Ben's head off with the shouted word. "It's good to hear from you, sir."

"How are things back home, son?" Ben asked.

"h.e.l.lo, you old b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Ike's voice boomed out of the speaker. "You been behavin" yourself?"

Ben decided to level with his old and good friend.

"It's rough out here, Ike," he admitted.

"d.a.m.n warlords are everywhere."

"And naturally you've been avoiding them whenever possible?"

Ben could not have possibly missed the sarcasm in Ike's voice. "Of course, Ike."

"Bulls.h.i.t. You always was a terrible liar. I won't pull your leg, brother. You must know we've got a full combat platoon tracking you.

Captain Nolan commandin'."

"I expected as much." Nolan was part of Colonel Gray's Scouts. Nolan and his people did not believe in taking prisoners. "Contrary to what you believe, Ben," Ike said, "we can't track you from here. But Captain Nolan can from his position. He's giving us daily radio reports on how you and that little boy been kickin'

a.s.s along the way. Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas. Ben, you got some rough ol' boys trackin' you. Three-four hundred strong. And pickin' up more along the way. Don't get yourself overloaded."

"Give me Nolan's frequency just in case,"

Ben said. "I promise if I get in a bind, I'll yell for help."

"I'll believe that when I see pigs flyin',"

Ike said to the radio operator. He gave Ben jthe frequency and the mike to Cecil, who had been summoned by a runner.

"I don't like what I've been hearing, Ben,"

Cecil said. "Let me send just a squad to your location. They won't get in your way, I promise."

"I won't be nurse-maided, Cec," Ben said. "Bring me up to date on what's happening at home."

"Told you," Ike said to Cecil, after making sure the mike was off.

"That hard-headed b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Cecil said. "Ike, get in touch with Colonel Gray. I want a fully equipped combat company of Gray's Scouts, with Dan leading them, on the way to Texas by first light."

"Done." Ike left the radio room at a lope.

In the truck Ben winked at Jordy. "They're plotting something, son. I can feel it over the miles."

"If they are," the boy replied, "it's because they love you."

That sobered Ben. "I guess so, Jordy."

Cecil brought Ben up to date on the building of a new community and how things were progressing in Dyersburg. He said the people from Southeast Missouri had contacted the Base Camp and had requested a team of Rebels in. He had sent them. There had been no serious trouble to speak of.

"All right, Cec," Ben said. "You take care."

Before Cecil could respond, Ben clicked the set off.

"How come you're runnin' away from them people, Ben?"

"I'm not running away from them."

"You sure could have fooled me," the boy replied.

The house had obviously belonged to a practicing survivalist. Rani found cases of freeze-dried foods, and as many cases of military canned rations. The canned C-rations were dated 1996, with an expiration date that had years to go before running out.

She founds cans of water and purification tablets, tents and sleeping bags and blankets and clothing. She turned to Robert. "How did you find this place, Robert? It obviously was well-concealed."

"The floor didn't sound right when I walked over it,"

the boy said. "Then I noticed that some of the tile didn't look right." He shrugged. "I pulled them up and there was the trapdoor."

She hugged him. "Thank you, Robert. You've probably saved our lives."

A more careful inspection of the bunker-type room below the house revealed a steel locker set in concrete. They looked all over the already ransacked house for the keys. Sandra, the seven-year-old, finally pointed to the keys, hanging on a peg by the side of the locker.

The locker was filled with rifles, shotguns, pistols, and boxes of ammunition.

"G.o.d bless survivalists," Rani said.

Cotton, a four-year-old boy, came stumbling down the steps, dragging a radio antenna behind him.

"Did you take that from the truck, Cotton?"

Rani asked.