Alone in the Ashes (20 page)

Jake Campo sat straight up in his blankets. He knew what had gotten his boys, and it hadn't been Ben Raines.

Throwing his blankets aside, he jerked on his boots and ran to the communications truck, startling the sleepy man.

“Get the boys on the horn!” he snapped. “Right now.”

His teams contacted, Jake said, “Stay out of the homes, the bars, the buildings. Don't touch
nothing
. Everything is booby-trapped. I 'member somebody telling me about it. You guys copy all this?”

“Yeah. When you gonna get here?”

“Soon,” Jake radioed. “Real soon. For now, you guys hunt a hole and stay put.”

He told Texas Red what had gone down. “You see, Red. Raines ain't no god. But I tell you what he's gonna be, real soon.”

“What?”

“Goddamn
dead!”

The morning after Christmas, Ben and Rani pulled out and headed north. Before leaving, Ben had loaded both trucks with as much emergency gear as possible, including ammunition and explosives from one of many hidden caches.

“Where are we going, Ben?” Rani asked.

“Into the wilderness area. We'll winter there and set up traps for Campo and his crud.”

“Are you going to call Colonel Gray and ask him to send in help?”

“Nope.”

“We were awfully lucky down in Texas, Ben. But you know luck has a nasty habit of running out. Usually at the worst of times.”

“This is something I have to do by myself, Rani. If you want to help, fine. If not, I can call in and have a team come and get you. It's all up to you.”

“You know I'm staying with you right to the end, Ben. But why is this so important to you?”

“Call it macho, male pride, stubborn, stupid; it's probably a mixture of all those things. It's . . .”

Ben seemed to be at a loss for words.

“It's for Jordy, isn't it, Ben?”

“Yes.”

She took his hand. “Then we'll do it together.”

 

 

They drove until the paved roads ran out. Then Ben off-loaded the supplies from Rani's truck and carefully hid the vehicle and his small trailer. With Rani by his side, Ben drove deep into what had been known as the Boise National Forest, to the southern branch of the Middle Fork Salmon. It took them three days to get all the supplies to the cabin deep in the timber.

She noticed Ben kept looking up at the sky.

“Ben, I know you're checking the skies for snow warnings. But even if it snows ten feet, you're leaving a trail a blind man could follow. Broken limbs and marked trees that the truck has rubbed against. You've deliberately tossed crap on the ground. You
want
them to find us, don't you?”

“I want them to know I've gone into the deep timber, yes. Finding our exact location is something else, though. You've seen the placement of that cabin, Rani. You know a person could walk within fifty feet of it and not see it unless they knew
exactly
where to look. Ike built it, years ago. Well, that's not entirely true. He found what was left of it and renovated it. I'm going to stash you in the cabin and leave the truck some miles from the cabin. While I'm backtracking to the cabin, I'll begin setting up traps.”

“Ben,” she said with great patience, “you could call in Colonel Gray and his Scouts and be done with this matter in no time.”

“Of course I could.” He smiled grimly. “But it's much more personally satisfying this way.”

“And men say women are complicated.”

 

 

The snug little cabin was built against a rather large hill, or a small mountain, as Rani called it. Only a small part of the cabin showed; the rest was part of the terrain itself, with the back rooms built into the earth. Ike was convinced that outlaws had built the place, back during the wild west days. Trees hid the cabin, the trees so close to the small porch they could be touched while sitting on the porch.

The cabin had a large combination den and kitchen. One big bedroom with a small fireplace. The smoke from both fireplaces was angled out into the rear, toward the cave at the back of the cabin, finally filtering out only-God-knew-where—probably miles away.

Part of the cave was used as a storage area. Ike had followed the cave for, as he put it, “One hell of an uncomfortable distance.” He had followed it until it branched off in three different directions, becoming so narrow and small a cat would have trouble getting through.

So Ben and Rani were safe from the rear, from both sides, and from above.

Ben and Rani worked three full days cutting and hauling and stacking wood for the fireplaces, most of the wood coming from downed trees. They only cut green wood when absolutely necessary. They filled up the storage area with enough wood to last them the winter, for the cabin was very snug, built as it was into the hill.

Ben killed two deer and dried most of the meat, storing it. For the first time in weeks, he and Rani enjoyed fresh meat, Rani fixing a roast for several meals, and a stew out of the rest.

The first of the new year, the weather turned rough, with cold winds and rain that quickly turned into sleet and then snow.

When they awakened on the second day of January, they were snowed in tight.

Jake Campo stood in the blowing snow, his big hands balled into fists. He stood looking first to the north, then at the obvious clues standing out like neon signs.

“He's baiting us,” Texas Red said. “He's daring us to come after him.”

“That's the way I read it, too,” Jake agreed. “Throwing down the glove and challenging us to pick it up.”

“Huh?” Red said.

Jake looked at the man. Dumb son of a bitch! he thought. “All right, boys. You start cuttin' sign,” he ordered a dozen men. “Rest of you make damn sure the trucks and jeeps are ready to go. Can't nothin' but a four-wheel make it in there. This weather ain't gonna last. They'll be blizzards and then it'll warm up enough for us to move. We might be able to move one day and be holed up for a week. But we're gonna get Ben Raines. This time, we're gonna get him.”

Ben radioed in to Base Camp One and gave Cecil his map coordinates on scramble. “Ike's hidey-hole,” he told them.

Ike grinned at the message. “Man, he's
way
back in the timber. It'd take a full battalion to dig them out of there. Shit. I stashed enough ammo back there to fight a whole war.”

“I think we should contact Colonel Gray,” Gale said.

“No,” Cecil nixed that. “If Ben wants Dan in on this, he'll contact him. I get the feeling this is, well, personal with Ben.”

None of them liked it, but that was the way it was going to be.

Ben told them about Sam Hartline and the Russian.

Gale tensed at the news. Her dark eyes filled with hatred at Ben's report.

Tina put her hand on the smaller woman's shoulder.

“We're going to have to do something about that situation,” Ben concluded his report. “Just as soon as I can pinpoint the location, we'll begin making plans to put an end to the obscenity. Raines out.”

Ben turned his set off before Base Camp One had a chance to say anything else.

“It's a vendetta,” Gale said. “It's for and because of that little boy.”

“I hadn't thought of that,” Ike said. “But you're right. Some of the people who brought that bunch of kids back said they'd never seen anything like the sight of those bodies Ben piled up around that old house. I'd hate to be in those outlaws' boots when they do catch up with Ben.”

Ben stepped out on the small porch. Under a clear blue sky, the land lay white and cold before him. Ben's lips curved in a warrior's smile as he lifted his eyes above the tree line.

Smoke from half a dozen fires plumed into the sky. They were miles away. But there they were, lines of silvery gray lancing into the blue.

He called Rani outside and pointed to the smoke.

“So they're here,” she said.

“No,” Ben corrected. “They're
there
. A long way from finding this place.” He smiled. “They'll be stumbling around the deep timber for a week. And taking heavy losses as they do.”

“From your traps?”

“And from me. Did you finish with those sheets yet?”

She sighed. “Yes. But I don't like it, Ben.”

“I used to fish in this area, Rani. Back when we knew some semblance of peace. Before the central government elected to make war against us. I fished up here many times, with Ike and Pal and Cecil.” And with our wives, he thought in silent memory. Salina, Lila, Valerie, Megan. All dead. Most of them never buried. Their monuments the majesty of the timber where they lay. “I know this land, Rani. Know it well.”

She had picked up on Ben's hesitation. She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. Sometimes old memories are best left alone.

“Come on,” she said, tugging at his arm. “Let's see how good a seamstress I am.”

Rani had taken insulated coveralls and cut and sewn a snow suit over the coveralls, making it out of bed sheets. Using white shoe polish, Ben had made snow boots out of insulated hunting boots. His small pack was also covered with white fabric, as were his web belt, canteens, and ammo pouches.

“When are you leaving, Ben?”

“An hour before first light in the morning. I want to watch the smoke today, try to judge where they're going.”

She smiled despite her fears. “Then let's make it a memorable evening, General.”

“Dee
lighted
,
Miss Jordan.”

“Ms.”

“But of course.”

 

 

Jake Campo squatted in front of a roaring fire, trying his best to get warm while his men struggled with tarps and tents. He looked over at Texas Red. They touched glances and understood each other.

Both knew coming into the snow and deep timber after Raines had been a terrible mistake. But they couldn't back out now. That would cause them the loss of respect from their men. The outlaws couldn't afford that. They had to finish this thing once and for all.

Forty men, Campo was thinking. We lost eight teams of men and Raines didn't have to fire one lousy shot. And the desertions.
Jesus
. Guys were just quitting them left and right.

He looked around him at the cold camp. Maybe, maybe if they were lucky, there was a hundred and twenty, maybe thirty guys left. But he knew these were the hardcore men. Murderers and rapists and nut cases. Most didn't have enough sense to quit.

This would be the base camp for a week, maybe longer. They would search every square inch of these woods, chart it on a map, and then, if they didn't turn up Raines, move on. Jake knew they had plenty of food and sleeping bags and ammo. It was just a matter of finding Raines.

They would start in the morning.

 

 

Ben walked some twenty miles from the cabin before he began head-hunting. It was going to snow again that night, so he wasn't worried about tracks.

He drew close to the smoke that made up the western edge of the outlaws' perimeter and squatted down, uncasing his binoculars. Very carefully and slowly, he scanned the area that lay before him. He picked up the movements of a few men. He focused his binoculars and brought the men in closer. They were walking with their heads down, searching the snow for sign.

Ben eased back into the deep timber, watching the men walk through the small valley. He was careful to shield his field glasses so the sun would not bounce off the lenses, giving away his position. He watched them draw closer, than fan out, several hundred yards between each man.

He waited by the edge of the forest. He was not aware of it, but he was smiling.

The man working the most eastern area drew closer. He was talking to himself. Obviously, he was not happy with his job.

“Son of a bitch,” the man muttered, his voice carrying to Ben. “I'm gonna enjoy watchin' Jake nail that bastard to a cross. I hope it takes him days to die. Jesus! it's cold out here.”

So Jake has plans to crucify me, Ben thought. I don't think I'd like that very much. I'll just see it I can't put a crimp in Big Jake's plans.

The outlaw came to the woods' edge and stood for a moment. The deep timber gave him some relief from the cold winds singing around the valley.

“I sure would like to take a piss,” the outlaw muttered. “But I'm afraid my pecker would freeze and fall off.”

Then he cussed Ben Raines loud and long.

Ben hoped he enjoyed cursing him, for it was to be the last sound he would ever hear.

Ben was silent and deadly with his knife, slicing the man's throat with the heavy, razor-sharp blade. He dragged the man into the timber and dropped him in the snow, his warm, pumping blood staining the whiteness scarlet.

“Halp!” Ben hollered, disguising his voice. “Halp! I'm stuck, boys, Halp!”

“Leroy, you stupid ox!” a man's call drifted over the valley. “What the shit is the matter with you now?”

“Caught my foot in a wedge!” Ben hollered. “Come help me.”

“All right, all right! Just don't pee on yourself. We're a-comin'.”

Ben heard the man say, “You two keep on a-lookin'. Simmons, you and Bobby come with me. Let's see what that dumbass's got hisself into now.”

The three outlaws approached Ben's position, walking clumsily through the snow.

“Leroy, you spastic bastard!” the point man said. “Sing out. Where is you?”

“Ooohhh!” Ben groaned.

“You hurt bad, Leroy?”

“Ooohhh!”

“Hang on, boy, we's comin'.”

The point man was the first to step into the dimly lit timber, and for a few seconds, he was unable to see. Ben took him out silently, plunging his knife into the man's chest, feeling the blade grind and grit through and past bone, driving into the man's heart.

Standing up, Ben reversed the dead man's sawed-off shotgun and used it for a club. He smashed the butt into one man's face, hearing bones crunch and splinter under the impact. Before the third man could unsling his weapon, Ben shattered the man's skull with the butt of the shotgun, hitting him so hard the butt broke off.

Ben dropped the broken shotgun, grabbed his. 30-06, and uncapped the scope lenses. Quickly, he sighted an outlaw and pulled the trigger. Without bothering to see if he hit the man—Ben knew he didn't miss, not at this distance—Ben had sighted the last man in and had downed him before the echoing report of the rifle had died away.

Ben slipped quietly back into the timber, heading for the next plume of smoke. He was not aware of it, but his smile was still locked in place, giving him a death's-head look.

A look of hard-taken revenge.

 

 

Jake's head jerked up at the sounds of the gunfire. A tiny bit more of confidence ebbed within the man. He somehow knew the shots had not come from any of his men. He somehow knew that Raines had struck again.

He sat on a log before the fire, waiting for the pot of coffee to boil. Not coffee, really. But a mixture of tea and coffee and chicory. Tasted like shit, but at least it was hot.

Seemed like it was taking forever for the crap to boil.

One of the warlord's men came and squatted down by the fire, rubbing his gloved hands together. “Reckon one of our boys got Raines, Jake?”

“Could be.”

“Hope they didn't kill him. I wanna see how much pain Raines can take. I hate that son of a bitch.”

“Why?” Jake heard himself ask. The one-word question surprised him, leaping from his mouth. He really didn't know why he'd asked it. Or, he mentally corrected that, didn't want to admit why he asked it.

“Huh?” the outlaw asked, looking at Campo.

“Why do you hate Raines?”

“Wal, shit, Jake! 'Cause the man is . . . the guy is ... all he is is . . .
Shit!
I don't know. I jist do, that's all.”

“Don't you, Jake?” another outlaw asked quietly.

Without taking his eyes from the just-bubbling liquid in the battered old pot, Jake said, “No. I don't hate him. I just wish to shit all this crap was over.”

“You wanna quit, Jake?” yet another man asked.

Jake shook his big shaggy head. “No. Can't none of us quit, and you all know why. We got to see this thing through.”

Jake leaned forward, reaching for the pot. Ben squeezed the trigger. The slug that was meant for Jake Campo struck the man squatted next to Jake, the force of the impacting bullet slamming the man forward, into the fire. His fur-lined parka caught fire, and was quickly blazing. The odor of cooked human flesh filled the air.

The camp panicked.

Ben fired again, the slug striking an outlaw in the center of the back, pitching the man into the snow, face down. Another outlaw went down, the bullet entering the left side of his head and exiting out the right, blowing brains and fluid and bits of bone out with it.