" "Or worse. Yes, that"s right. Or the prettiest girl in school wouldn"t date him."
"Or the kid next door had a new bike."
She laughed. "Or they were poor."
"Or his mother was frightened by a goat. Yes, I know. It"s all a crock of c.r.a.p. It always has been. We"ve practically done away with crime in the SUSA simply by teaching right and wrong in public schools . . .
starting at a very early age. For die few who are born bad, we have long prison terms, if they"re not killed by property owners while attempting to steal."
"And you"ve done it all in a very short time."
"In less than a decade. Through education and strict law enforcement.
That"s all it takes. Plus a little help from home, if it"s available."
"And if it isn"t available?"
"That"s where society does come into play. Through sponsor programs and one on one buddy systems. Those are big in the SUSA. People aren"t required to take part, and they aren"t criticized if they don"t do so.
That"s not the way it is in the SUSA. Stick your mouth into someone else"s business down there and the nosey person is very likely to get a fat lip. It"s just that people care about each other in the SUSA."
Lara smiled. "That sounds very much like an oxymoron."
Ben returned the smile. "I guess it does, at that. But that"s the way it works, and the people like it that way."
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"And the liberals hate it because it does work."
"Exactly." Ben caught a glimpse of a battered old road sign. "How big is this town we"re coming to?"
"It"s deserted. Used to be a tourist town. Quite a few lakes around here, but n.o.body"s lived here since shortly after the Great War and the collapse."
"Let"s find a place to pull over and stretch our legs and answer a call of nature."
"I"ll certainly go for the latter. Your legs stiffening up on you?"
"A little. I"m a bruise from my head to my toes. b.a.s.t.a.r.ds really worked on me."
"They will never work on anyone else," Lara commented drily.
"Amen to that." Ben looked around as they pulled into the edge of town."Nice looking little town."
"Used to be. When I was little, my dad used to bring the family here on vacation. We"d fish and swim, and hike and cook out every day. There were ranges where kids could learn archery, and others where gun safety cla.s.ses were taught. That"s where I first got interested in shooting."
"Any of your family still living?"
"No," Lara said softly. "My dad was a member of a militia group. This was several years before the Great War and the collapse. I was gone, in college. One night the Feds raided our house looking for illegal weapons. Well, there weren"t any. I don"t believe anyone in the entire group had any illegal weapons. My dad was a strong believer in the right of privacy, due process, the right to own and bear arms, the Const.i.tution in general. Dad fought the Feds that night-unarmed, in his pajamas. One of the Feds. .h.i.t him with the b.u.t.t of a rifle. Fractured his skull. Dad died a few days later. He never regained consciousness.
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William W. Johnstone Of course, since Dad was an open member of a militia- he never denied it-the press painted him as a right-wing nut. He was anything but. No illegal weapons were found in the house, naturally. There were never any illegal guns there. The government never did apologize for killing my father. My mother and two younger brothers then became very active in the militia movement. So did I. My mother died shortly after the Great War. My brothers were both killed by the Feds two years ago."
"Who reported your father had illegal weapons in the house?"
"A noesy neighbor. A democrat/socialist left-winger all the way. When the collapse came, a gang of roaming thugs. .h.i.t what was left of our town, on a rampage. My brothers and I fought them off, away from our house. Killed several of them ... using guns my father had buried just before the gun ban and national confiscation went into effect."
"And the neighbor? What happened to him ... or her?"
"Him. Mister Warner. That gang of rampaging punks killed him."
"Could you have prevented it?"
"Sure. At least I think so. But we didn"t. My brothers and I just looked at each other and shrugged. I remember Warner calling out for us to help him. I also remember the tirades Warner would throw about guns and how everyone who owned a gun was a right-winger, especially anyone who belonged to the Republican Party. I remember how he never even came over to apologize for being at least partly responsible for my father"s death. I also remember thinking with sort of a grim satisfaction "To h.e.l.l with that left-wing b.a.s.t.a.r.d." I"m sure G.o.d will punish me for that.
But I don"t think the punishment will be too severe. I seem to recall from bible lessons that G.o.d liked His warriors."
Lara turned down a road and drove for several miles, the road running alongside a pretty lake. "Some old tourist 105105.
cabins out this way. It"s a fairly isolated place. But there is more than one way out."
Lara pulled in behind a row of log cabins and parked in a garage that looked as though it had seen better days ... which Ben was sure it had.
Behind them were dense woods. The truck could not be seen from the road or from the air.
"I brought several blankets from the storeroom of the nuthouse," Ben said, getting out and stretching. His joints popped and creaked, and his muscles screamed silently.
Lara looked at him. "You sound like the Tin Man in need of a good oiling."
Ben laughed and nodded his head. d.a.m.ned if his neck didn"t creak with the movement. "At this moment, I certainly feel like him, too."
Lara lit a small candle Ben had taken from the storeroom of the nuthouse and looked at the back room of the cabin. Then she looked at Ben in the flickering light.
"Oh, c.r.a.p, no way!" Ben said, looking around him. Then they both started laughing.
The place was ankle-deep in trash.
"Let"s just sleep outside," Lara suggested. "The temperature is mild."
" "That will sure beat the h.e.l.l out of trying to clean up this mess."
The two of them slept outside, on die ground. Ben was very tired, still a long way from full recovery from the beatings he"d taken, and he slept deeply and straight through until after dawn.
When he awakened he was still stiff, but some of the soreness was gone.
He stretched and groaned and looked over at Lara. She was still sleeping.
Then Ben heard the faint sounds of vehicles, and the sound was growing louder. He reached over and shook her.
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William W. Johnstone "Wake up, Lara. We"ve got company coming. Sounds like several vehicles."
There was a large bruise on the side of her face and a mouse under one eye from the savage beating at the hands and fists of Bradford, marks Ben had noticed during the night. The whipping she took from the heavy belt must be painful, Ben thought. Lara had yet to utter a single complaint. Tough lady, Ben concluded.
She sat up and rubbed her face, rubbed it very gently, Ben noticed. "I hear them. But there is no way they could have tracked us."
"No. It"s just an all-out search. I"ll bet you they"re spread out all over the state. I told you this is how it would be.""I wonder if the Feds have upped that million dollar reward on you."
"Possibly. But I"d guess this is just part of a ma.s.sive search for us.
Let"s get inside that cabin and get ready to make a fight of it."
They grabbed their blankets and rifles and headed for the cabin. Ben looked back at the weed-filled yard. There was no trace of tire tracks from their pulling in hours back.
"Take the back of the cabin," Ben told her. "I"ll take the front. If they spot the truck, open fire."
"We don"t have a chance in here, Ben. They"ll blow this cabin apart."
"Yeah. I know. You have a better plan?"
She grinned at him, then shook her head. "I wish."
Ben paused for a second, then walked over and kissed her. "Good luck."
She smiled. "Is that a promise of things to come?"
"d.a.m.n right."
"You sure you can handle me?"
"I can try."
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She laughed softly and pushed him toward the front of the old cabin. "I can hardly wait."
The command reached them: "Check out those old cabins over there!"
"Here we go," Ben said.
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Ben had his CAR on full auto, and he had watched Lara do the same with her weapon. They each had taken two 9mm pistols from their rucksacks and they were loaded up full and ready to bang. Each had several grenades within arm"s reach. The Feds might kill them, but they would pay a terrible price before that happened.
Ben peeped out through what was left of the broken and very dirty panes.
Four vehicles. One HumVee, one big nine-pa.s.senger wagon, and two Ford Broncos. He figured between fifteen and twenty people.
Ben counted seven people all strung out along the road in front of the cabins. The rest were working their way behind the row of cabins. Only a few seconds were left before they would spot the pickup parked under the open-ended carport.
"Get ready to start the music," Ben called in a stage whisper.
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"What the h.e.l.l was that?" one of the Feds asked, stopping along the side of the road.
"What?" another asked.
"I heard somebody say something."
"Probably somebody in the back."
"Hey!" The shout came from behind the cabins.
Ben lifted his CAR.
"What?"
"There"s a pickup truck back here. Parked under the carport."
He never said anything else. Lara opened up with her CAR, and a half second later Ben did the same. The men and women who made up this small contingent of Oster-man"s army went down like pins in a bowling alley.
Sixty rounds later, Ben and Lara ejected empties and rammed home full mags.
One Fed made a run for the HumVee. Ben cut him down. Another started running for the big wagon. Lara st.i.tched him, turning him around and around twice, and he dropped lifeless to the ground and did not move.
"G.o.dd.a.m.n you!" a woman shouted from the outside. "d.a.m.n you all. You filthy, right-wing militia sc.u.m!"
"f.u.c.k you!" Lara shouted.
Ben smiled and decided to stay out of this fight. It was getting very interesting.
"I knew it had to be militia!" the woman Fed shouted. "You cowardly, back-shooting Republican wh.o.r.e!"
Ben chuckled. His breath blew out gunsmoke.
Lara"s CAR stuttered. There was no reply of any kind from the Fed in the yard.
"Have you ladies concluded your conversation?" Ben called.
"I just ended it," Lara said. "The b.i.t.c.h isn"t moving."
"I would certainly say it was over," Ben muttered.