Bodi men stepped back to catch dieir breath.

Ray noticed then diat die gunfire had all but stopped. Raines's sneak dawn attack had destroyed what was left of the gangs. The son-of-a-bitch had sworn he would do it, and he did it.

Rage filled Ray and he stepped in close and took a swing. Ben ducked the punch and hit him hard on the moudi, pulping his lips. Ray just dien noticed Raines had slipped on a pair of thin leather gloves seconds before die fight. Ray knew diat die gloves would not only help protect die hands, but enable die man to hit harder.

Just to prove die point, Ben popped him again, diis time on die nose, and die blood flew. Ben followed diat punch widi a right cross. Ray backed up, involuntary tears flooding his eyes.

Ben took diat time to bore in and really hammer at Ray 270.

William W. Johnstons with hard hitting and hurting lefts and rights, forcing the younger man back.

Ray lucked out with a wild swing that connected against Ben's jaw and forced Ben to stop his advance and clear his head. Ray wiped the blood away and stepped in close. Bad mistake on his part. Ben lashed out with a boot that caught the gang leader on the knee and brought a howl of pain. Ray dropped his guard and Ben hit him four times in the face, swelling one eye and further pulping Ray's lips.

Both men stood facing each other, and as if on cue, dropped their hands to their sides to rest for a moment.

"Pretty good for an old man, Raines," Ray gasped.

"Oh, you haven'tseen anything yet, punk," Ben panted.Ray got it then. Raines was going to beat him to death. "You're crazy, man!"

"Just a man who likes dogs, you piece of shit!"

"Dogs," Ray whispered. "You're doing this because of dogs?"

"Among other reasons."

"I hate dogs. I got bitten by a dog when I was a boy."

"That's wonderful, Ray. Makes a lot of sense. I've been shot several times, but I don't hate guns. I've been divorced a couple of times, but I don't hate women. Assholes like you who lack character can always find some excuse for your cruelty." Ben lifted his hands and balled them into big fists. "Come on, Ray. Have you turned chickenshit on me?"

Ray stepped forward and ran right into a left and right to the face that staggered him and further bloodied his face. Ben smiled at him.

Ray got scared. For the first time in a very long time, the gang leader realized he was going to lose a fight-to a man 20 years his senior. Ray turned and tried to break 271.

271.

through the circle of Rebels. He was very rudely shoved back.

"Fight, you punk bastard!" a burly Rebel taunted him.

"I've had it, Raines!" Ray yelled. "I surrender! I give up!"

"When you're dead I'll consider your request," Ben told him, then knocked Ray down.

Through a blur of pain, the gang leader scrambled to his feet. His nose was leaking blood, his lips were bloody, there were several cuts on his face, one eye was rapidly swelling shut. He turned in all directions, seeking a way out of the circle of uniformed men and women. He was trapped. Screaming his fear and rage, Ray charged Ben. Ben buried one big fist in Ray's stomach, the blow doubling him over and putting him to his knees, coughing and puking and gasping for air. Ray held up a hand.'

'Enough," he gasped.

"How many of your victims said the same thing, you punk bastard?" Ben snarled at him.

"My God!" Ben heard Ms. Braithewaithe-Honniker cry. "Give the man a chance. He wants to be rehabilitated."

"Oh, he's going to be completely rehabilitated," Ben told die reporter, not taking his eyes from Ray Brown. "You can believe that."

Ray scurried toward Ben, on his hands and knees, looking like a very large and very ugly bug. Ben kicked him in the face, the boot knocking Ray back and landing him on his back. Ben stepped back, his hands at his side.

"Get up, punk. You eitiier get up and fight me, or by God, I swear I'llkick you to deadi."

"You brute!" Ms. Honeyducker yelled. "You savage monster!''

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ben muttered.

Ray slowly got to his feet. A Rebel wetted a towel from 272.

his canteen and tossed it to Ray. Ray caught it with his face.

"Don't say we're not fair, punk," the Rebel called, then laughed.

Ray wiped his face with the wet towel and hurled it back toward the Rebels. Then he stepped forward, raising his fists. "All right, Raines,"

he panted. "I got my second wind now. Now I'm gonna stomp you."

"Very doubtful," Ben said, then leaped at Ray, both boots slamming into the gang leader. One boot striking the man in the chest, the other boot catching him full in the face, Ray hit the ground.

"Oh, good move, boss!" Beth called.

Ray slowly rose to his hands and knees, blood pouring from his smashed face. He painfully turned his head at the sounds of gunfire. "What's that?" he managed to mumble the question.

"Firing squads," Ben told him.

Ray suddenly lunged at Ben, trying to grab him by the knees. Ben stepped out of the way and all Ray managed to grab was air. He landed on his belly, stretched out on the ground.

"That's kind of pitiful, Ray," Ben's words reached him through a mist of pain. "I thought you were a big tough boy. You sure had a lot of people fooled."

"Finish it, you son-of-a-bitch!" Ray gasped.

"All right," Ben told him. "If you insist." He stepped forward and grabbed Ray's head with his big hands. One sudden twist and all present heard Ray's neck break. Ben stepped back and looked at the knot of utterly horrified reporters. "Now he's rehabilitated," Ben said.

Ms. Honeymucker fainted.

273.

The backbone of the gangs had been broken, the head cut off the snake.

Ben knew that several hundred gang members had escaped the assaults that had stretched from very nearly coast to coast, but those few hundred were disorganized, demoralized, and leaderless. Ben had no intention of pursuing them.

Now Ben knew he had to deal, in some manner, with Simon Border. He would make one final attempt at talking some sense into the man. If that failed, then there would be war.

Ben now had eight battalions with him, the remainder of his battalionsset to roll, being held at the ready on the edge of Border's territory.

Ben moved his people out of the mountains south to a larger town that had an airport. Once there, he ordered the reporters to board planes and get the hell out of his sight and keep it that way.

274.

William W. Johnstone "You are a very rude person, General Raines," Ms. Braithewaithe-Honniker told him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ben muttered. Once the planes were airborne, Ben turned his attentions toward Emil Hite.

"I'm not going to send you back, Emil."

"Thank you, my general," Emil said humbly. "You won't regret it."

"That remains to be seen, Emil. But I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt. You stay with the column, and stay out of trouble. You hear me?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Fine. Now gather up your followers and get ready to pull out."

"Yes, sir!" Emil saluted, French-style, palm out, and spun around, almost falling down before recovering his balance and hustling off.

Ben smiled. Emil was now and had been for years a colossal pain in the ass, but a likeable one. His smile faded as a darker thought entered his brain. Ben and his Rebels were hundreds of miles from home base, deep in the territory of a man who, in Ben's opinion, was mentally unstable and who had sworn to destroy them all.

Ben decided to try Simon one more time, even though he knew it was a useless gesture. But Ben wanted it clear at least in his mind that he had done everything within his power to avert a war with Simon Border.

After several unsuccessful tries to contact Simon, Corrie shook her head. "No go, boss. They're not responding. I'm sure they hear us.

They're just not going to answer."

"See if you can contact Mike."

She had the man on the horn within seconds and handed Ben the mic.

"What's going on up in the holy land, Mike?"

"Preparing for war, Ben. Against the 'Great Satan.' That's you, in case you've forgotten."

275.

275.

"How could I forget being equated with the devil? Does Simon have a timetable for this war?"

"As soon as you try to leave. I was going to contact you later on andadvise you of this, Ben. I'm getting ready to pull out with my people.

It's about to get real scary here in Colorado."

''I won' t ask you where you're going. Just keep in touch.''

"Ben, we don't know where we're going. Simon's put everyone on high alert. It's dangerous for a non-believer just to glance out the window."

"Can we get out, Mike? Back to our own borders?"

"Not without a hell of a fight, Ben. Simon's had his factories working around the clock for months, cranking out war materials. Billions of rounds of ammo. And he has advised his people that this will be a fight to the death."

"Shit!"

"That's what it's turning into."

"They believe him, Mike? Simon's followers, I mean?"

"Oh, yes, Ben. Simon is the father, if you get what I mean."

"I get it, all right. Anything else, Mike?"

"That's about it."

"I guess all I can say is good luck."

"Same to you, Ben. I'll be in touch."

Corrie had switched to another radio and when Ben turned around, he noticed she was listening intently. He waited and when she signed off, she wore a very worried expression. "What's up, Corrie?"

"Simon's people are on the move, heading this way by convoy. They're about 75 miles to the north of us. Scouts are staying a few miles ahead of them."

"How many?"

"Thousands," she said softly.

"Thousands?"

276.

I "Yes, sir. Loudspeakers on the trucks blaring religious I music. To use one of the scout's words, it's awesome." I "Tanks?"

"Only a few. But plenty of towed artillery. And they've got a lot of 81mm mortars."

"Those old 81s have a good range on them," Ben mused. "About 5,200 yards. They could deal us some misery. All right, Corrie. Give the orders to pack up and mount up. We're heading south."

"We don't stand and give them a fight, boss?" Jersey asked, disappointment clear behind her words.Ben sighed. "I don't want to kill these people, Little Bit. I thought after we kicked ass with Simon's Guards of God he'd get the message. But he didn't. He wants a fight. Well, I'm not going to be the one who starts it. If his army catches up with us and forces a fight, we'll fight. But they're going to be the aggressors, not us. Let's go."

By the afternoon of the second day of their roll south, it became clear that Simon's people were closing the gap. Ben had thousands of tons of heavy artillery and tanks to move, and they could not travel at any rate of speed which would enable them to get clear of Simon's people, who were traveling mostly in trucks and able to roll faster.

"Forty miles and closing," Corrie reported.

"Shit!" Ben swore. He kicked a rusted can across the highway and cussed and stomped some more. Then he settled down and opened his map case, spreading the map out on the hood of a HumVee. "Okay, people.

Goddammit!" He thumped the map. "Tell the scouts to find us a place between Casa Grande and Tucson. I want as much high ground as possible.

Bump Buddy and tell him to take his special ops people and roll on ahead, link up with scouts. Find him a good ambush spot and get set.