A tiny warning bell went off in Ben's head. "What might that be, ol' buddy?"

"Emil has a group of reporters with him. Just thought you should be warned. Take care, Ben. Ol' Black Joe out."

Cecil was chuckling as he broke the transmission.

"Ol' Black Joe," Ben muttered. "And people say I have a strange sense of humor."

"One thing about it," Beth remarked. "With Emil along, we can be entertained."

"That's one way of putting it," Ben replied. "But who 245.

are these damn reporters with him? The only ones I've given permission to travel with any battalion are with Tina's 9 Batt.""Emil obviously monitored the last transmission," Cor-rie said. "He's on the horn."

With a very audible sigh, Ben took the mic. "Go, Emil."

"My general!" Emil shouted and Ben winced. "Commander of the army whose mission it is to save the world and bring peace and prosperity to every law-abiding citizen ... plus a chicken in every pot."

"Emil, cut the shit."

"Oh. Very well. I found a group of press types stranded along the way, general. I couldn't leave them to the hostile elements, so I brought them along."

"Who are they?"

"A group of very fine and highly principled men and women from the NUSA, my general."

"A bunch of goddamn liberals, you mean."

"Well, I suppose that is one way of putting it."

Ben shook his head. "All right, Emil. We'll wait for you. Corrie will give you our coordinates."

Ben handed her the mic. "You might tell him we're in the Okefenokee Swamp."

"You think he'd believe it?"

"No. But it was a nice thought."

Corrie spoke with Emil for a moment, then broke it off. "He'll be here about noon tomorrow."

"Now it really gets interesting," Ben said.

247.

"My God, General Raines!" Clyde Mayfield blurted. "Aren't you going to give them a chance to surrender?"

Ben lowered his binoculars and gave the reporter a disgusted look. "No."

"But they're human beings, with guaranteed rights!" Ms. Cynthia Braithwaithe-Honnicker squalled.

"They're murdering, raping, torturing, dope-dealing, child-killing, mind-destroying scum," Ben bluntly informed the reporter. "Do not speak to me of the rights of criminals. I heard enough of that shit back before the Great War. When people such as yourself were trying your damnedest to destroy the nation. Now shut up, Ms.

Bra-Burner-Homewrecker, or whatever the hell your name is."

"Well!" Cynthia stamped her foot-her left one. "I will not permit you to speak to me in such a manner."

"I believe I just did," Ben replied. He turned to Corrie. "Fire!"Rebel 155mm self-propelled Howitzers, M-60A3 tank 248.

William W. Johnstone main guns, and 105mm Howitzers, all of them positioned several miles to the rear, opened up on the little town in the valley. The Howitzers were firing a mixed bag of rounds: HE-MI, M413 (which contained 18 M35 grenades) , and WP. The town in the valley, which scouts had slipped in and out of two nights in a row, held the gangs of Craig "Frankie"

Franklin, Foster "Fos" Payne, and Thad "Killer" Keel.

The old buildings in the town below the hill where Ben stood with his team and the knot of reporters that had accompanied Emil Hite westward, exploded in a shower of brick and wood and shingles and pieces of commodes and sinks and various body parts.

The scouts had reported that one of the buildings contained a large lab that was capable of producing huge quantities of methamphetamines and other illicit drugs. Ben knew that some of the materials used in the manufacture of those drugs were highly flammable. They sure were. The large building located in the center of the town went up like a billion Roman candles all mixed in with dynamite.

Body parts went soaring high into the sky along with several flaming motorcycles. About 50 feet off the ground, the tanks on the motorcycles exploded.

"My, my," Ben said. "This is quite a show. Are you reporters getting good pictures of this event?"

"Barbaric!" Clyde Mayfield said.

"Grotesque!" Ms. Braithewaithe-Honniker said.

"Inhuman!" Lance Nightengale sniffed.

"Right," Ben said. "Corrie, tell the gunners to keep pouring it on until I give the order to stop."

"But those left alive may want to surrender!" another reporter protested.

Ben had been introduced to her and he thought her name was Noel Honeypucker, or something like that. He ignored them all.

249.

249.

Rebel snipers were laying back outside the town, waiting. They did not have long to wait. Several dozen gang members lived through the artillery barrage and tried to make a run for it. The Rebel snipers cut them down.

Noel Honeybun, or whatever her name was, and Cynthia Double-last-name, were openly weeping at the sight of those poor, poor rapists, murderers and child molesters and so forth going down under the snipers' rifles.

The men were being manly, keeping a stiff upper lip and all that. But Ben could tell they were outraged at this travesty of justice."Cease firing," Ben finally gave the orders.

At first the quiet was unnerving to those not accustomed to it ; "We'll go in and take a look around when the fires die down," Ben said.

"For now, everybody take five."

"I'm hungry," Anna said.

Honeyjugs and Braithewaithe-Honniker looked at the young woman, undisguised horror in their eyes.

The men with them both wore an expression of astonishment at her announcement.

"Me, too, Anna," Ben said. "Let's break out the rations." He glanced at the reporters. "Care to join us for a mid-morning repast?"

"You ... you ... monster!" Honeybutt raged at him.

"There will be a full report of this outrage submitted to President Altman," reporter Lance Nightengale blathered.

"Give him my best when you see him," Ben said.

"You are the most arrogant, unfeeling man I have ever encountered!"

Clyde Mayfield opined.

"My mother didn't think so." Ben did his best to look hurt He couldn't quite manage to bring it off.

"Why don't you ladies and gentlemen come with me?" Emil Hite stuck his mouth into it "I've found some shade and you can rest for a time."

250.

"Thank you, General Hite," Honeybags said. "I'm glad to see there is at least one civilized human being with this unit."

"General Hite?" Ben questioned.

Emil drew himself up to his full height, which wasn't much over five feet. "President Jefferys himself bestowed that rank upon me," he announced. "For all the good work I've done with the Rebels."

Ben nodded. "Wonderful, Emil. Now take the reporters and go away."

As Emil, his gaggle of followers, and the reporters ambled off, Beth whispered, "Do you suppose Cecil really gave Emil the rank of general?"

"You can bet I'm going to find out," Ben told her. "Although I don't know what I'm going to do about it if it's true." He paused, and then smiled. "Oh, yes, I do. Yes, indeed. I hope it is official. If that's the case, Emil is now directly under my command." Ben laughed.

"You have a very wicked look in your eyes, General Ben," Anna said.

"Yeah, I've seen that look before," Cooper said."I'm thinking how Emil would like to be attached to the kitchen for the duration."

"I wouldn't do that," Beth warned.

"Why?"

"Then we'd all run the risk of being poisoned."

"I never thought of that," Ben admitted.

"Besides," Corrie said, "you can't put a general on KP."

"It was a good thought, though, boss," Jersey told him. "We'll all think about what to do with Emil."

Ben looked at her. "Jersey, I know what you'd like to do."

The diminutive bodyguard smiled. "Naw, I wouldn't really shoot him. But Emil sure as hell thinks I would."

251.

251.

Emil stayed out of Ben's way and did his best not to draw Ben's attention as the convoy traveled west. None of the reporters traveling with the Rebels would speak to Ben after the carnage (their words) at the little town, and that was fine with Ben. Emil, his entourage and the reporters were at the rear of the column, and Ben hoped they all stayed there.

Ben spent a day and a night at Socorro before turning west on old Route 60. The town, which once boasted a population of about 15,000 was now reduced to less than 500 people. But they were solid Tri-Staters and determined to remain that way.

Ben had supplies flown in and made sure the residents had everything they needed to continue growing. Then the column moved on.

The spokesperson for the group in Socorro warned Ben that the punks were going to be in force from that point on, if the Rebels stayed on their present route.

"I plan to stay on it all the way," Ben said, not giving the man the slightest clue where "all the way" might end. "You wouldn't happen to know what gangs we might run into next down the line, would you?"

"I sure do, general. My people have scouted them out pretty well. Some punk by the name of Les Justice, and two more gangs run by a punk calls himself Jack Brittain, and the other gang is headed up by a road whore named Karen Carr. And that slut is one mean person. She is bad to the bone, believe it."

"Oh, I believe you," Ben replied. "I've seen some of her work." He smiled. "But Ms. Carr is about to run up against the baddest dog on the block.""And that's you, general?"

"That's me."

252.

It wasn't much of a fight. The baddest dog on the block didn't even have to growl all that much. The Rebels hit the punk-occupied town at dawn with artillery and blew it apart. Ben ordered the reporters kept in the rear, so, as he put it, "The sight of vicious career criminals being killed wouldn't traumatize them for the rest of their lives and probably render them incapable of earning an honest living."

The reporters did not see the humor in Ben's remarks.

Ben and his team walked through the ruins of the still-smoking town.

This time, despite Ben's request that they stay in the rear, the reporters came along.

"Be sure and bring along a box of tissues," Ben told Beth. "So diese left-wing assholes can have something to wipe their weepy eyes with."

"Or have a snit on," Jersey added.

"That, too," Ben said with a smile.

The press was grim-faced as they toured the shattered town, doing their best to avoid looking at the torn-apart bodies. To their credit, none of them lost their breakfast, but Ben could tell that was accomplished only with a great effort on their part. None of them were about to give Ben the satisfaction of seeing them barf.

Dozens of punks had escaped the barrage, but they didn't get far. There were snipers placed in a wide circle around the town. A few punks did manage to get clear of the killing field, scattering in all directions.

Those few might return to a life of crime, but more importantly, the backs of the gangs involved had been broken and the heads cut off.

When Ben ordered his people to mount up and move out, leaving the bodies unburied, the reporters went into a towering snit.

253.