"What are your plans for the ruins of Boston?"

"I have no plans for that city or any other city. I'm through with the cities, Mike. We'll do our best to stabilize the countryside. If the people in the rural areas want to deal with the crud and the crap in the ruins of the cities, that's up to them. I'm not going to waste another Rebel life in the damn rubble of the cities. Not the major cities, anyway."

"Was it that bad for you trapped in the ruins, Ben?"

"No. Not really. But I did have a chance to do some thinking. It isn't our fight, Mike. If these people here in the northeast were aligning with us, then that would be a different story. But for the most part, they're choosing to stay with the old system, even though they should know by now it didn't work. By their choosing the old way, that makes it their fight, not ours. I think, medically speaking, 179.

we do have an obligation to treat the sick wherever we can. If they'll let us. That is for our good as well as theirs. But as far as I'm concerned, it ends there."

Mike stood up. "That's the way I see it, too. What about Simon Border, Ben?"

"I need to know everything there is to know about the man and his army."

"I' 11 get right on it. Well, enjoy your stay in the Northeast, Ben.

I'll catch up with you."

Ben nodded and Mike was gone out the door.

Jersey appeared in the open doorway. "We going to kick Simon Border's ass, boss?"

' 'Probably, Jersey.''

"A religious war, boss?"

"Simon will surely call it that."

"I wonder what history will call it?"

Ben smiled. "Historians will surely paint us as the bad guys, Jersey. I think we've already seen to that."

"Yeah? Well, fuck 'em if they can't take a joke!"

Ben was still laughing when the rest of his team stuck their heads intothe room to see what in the world was going on.

181.

Ben and his people stayed well away from the ruins of Boston, heading toward New Hampshire on Interstate 495. Buddy sent some of his special ops people in to look over the city and they reported back about what Ben thought they would.

"About 5,000 or so people in the ruins, Father," Buddy said. "That's just an estimate, of course."

"Close enough for government work, boy."

"What?"

"Nothing, son. Just an old expression you wouldn't be familiar with. Any punks in the city?"

"No, sir."

"Any creepies?"

The handsome young man shook his head.

"No punks, no creeps," Ben muttered. "Where the hell did they go?"

' 'They certainly didn't head south. They didn't go north, for the Canadian militia is guarding all possible crossing 182.

sites. Scouts report that they didn't go east. So that leaves only one direction open."

"Simon Border double-crossed them once. They're not stupid enough to fall for his line again."

"I wouldn't think so. But he's a very convincing man, right?"

"Yes. He is. He conned thousands into following him west."

"Then perhaps he did convince them to return."

"The West is a vast country," Anna said. "According to what I have read.

Much of it unpopulated. Correct?"

"You're right, Anna," Buddy said. "Even more so now."

Ben groaned. "Don't tell me you think the punks might have gone to the ruins of Los Angeles and Southern California."

"It's certainly a possibility."

"Hell, we left that in worse shape than we did New York!"

"I'd opt for the deserts and the mountains.'' Jersey spoke up. "Lots of little towns dotted all over die place."

"You mean you think the punks turned over a new leaf and went straight?"Ben asked.

"Not necessarily," his son answered. "In this, the aftermath of the greatest disaster ever to strike the earth, what would a certain type of weak-willed, even lower-charactered person be looking for, odier tiian food?"

Ben thought for a moment, then grimaced. "Oh, no, boy! Don't tell me that!"

"What?" Anna asked.

"Drugs," Beth said. "I think Buddy's got it, boss."

Corrie walked into the room holding half a dozen blown-up photos. There was a very puzzled look on her face. "Boss, we just got this transmission from Base Camp One. It's from several satellite passovers taken over the past few days."

183.

"What is it?"

"Motorcycles and dune buggies. Hundreds of them. All heading west. But not all together. They reached a certain point, then split up."

Ben looked at each of the photos for a moment, then flung them on the table in disgust. "Ray Brown is smarter than I thought. He had a secondary plan to fall back on. They hid motorcycles, dune buggies, alternate transportation, all over the place as they moved east. But why? Why even go east in the first place if they felt they were going to lose?"

No one had an immediate answer to that and neither did Ben.

"Diversion?" Jersey finally tossed the word out.

"From what? For what?" Ben asked.

"Maybe just to get us out of the center of the country, Father," Buddy said.

"All right, let's play that one out. Why would they want us out of the center of the country?"

No one replied and Ben finally shook his head and stood up, glancing down at the photos. "Oh, to hell with it. The punks slipped out of the net and are heading west. We know that much for fact. Maybe Simon Border's people will deal with them and that will mean one less problem for us."

"So we continue on with our humanitarian efforts?" Buddy asked.

"That's why we're here, son."

The Rebels moved on. They cleaned up airports and the big transports from the SUSA came roaring in, bringing medical supplies. In the SUSA, factories and research labs were running around the clock, producing medicines for the Rebels to distribute in the North and East.

184Ben ordered leaflets dropped all over the Northeast, telling the citizens the Rebels were on the way and giving the locations and the approximate times they would be there.

Ben told his political officers to stand down and ceased all talk of anyone becoming a part of the SUSA. He wanted only to finish the job they'd started. The majority of the people they met and treated were friendly and open and glad to see the Rebels. Reporters from various small newspapers that had been springing up all over the eastern United States caught up with the columns and in general stayed out of the way, letting the Rebels work. After a couple of minor confrontations, those few reporters with a penchant for being obnoxious stayed clear of the Rebels. They learned very quickly that when they were told to get the hell out of the way, the Rebels weren't kidding, and they backed up their warnings rather violently.

West of the Mississippi River, Simon Border's people had either purged the "undesirables" from their territory or had demoralized them to the point where any dissidents were no longer a problem.

Only a few SUSA supporters were still active in the areas under solid control of Simon Border forces, with the exception of the Mormons. For a time it looked as if Simon would leave any Mormon-controlled area alone, but that soon proved to be false. The state of Utah was now completely surrounded by Border's troops and nothing got in or out... so far.

"The man is a bigger fool than I first thought," Ben said. "Corrie, get some people in there and see what we can do to assist the Mormons. Let me rephrase that-see if the Mormons want our help. No strings attached."

"What's that lunatic got against the Mormons?" Jersey asked.

"Simon Border is against anyone who does not com- 185.

185.

pletely subscribe to his wacky ideas of religion and worship."

"I thought he was going to try to work with us?" Cooper asked.

"Simon lies," Ben told him. "He lies when the truth would serve him better."

Ben took a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. "We got diis early this morning. Our people in Simon's territory think something is up ... involving us."

"But Simon has signed a non-aggression pact with us!" Buddy protested.

Ben smiled. "That document isn't worth die paper it's printed on, son.

We knew that all along. I told you that someday we'd have to fight Simon and his people."

A runner from communications came into the room and handed Ben a communique. Ben quickly read it, then grunted. "Simon's been quietly recruiting people outside his territory. He's managed to convince thousands of ultra-religious people-of the very fanatical, offrthe-wall types- to come over and join him.""And tihat means... ?" Buddy asked.

"We wrap it up here as quickly as possible and start backtracking, taking the shortest routes."

"And run head-on into a religious war, Father?"

"I don't want one, son, that's for sure. But I've warned Simon to keep his nutty people west of the Mississippi. He agreed and also agreed to leave Utah alone. He's broken every promise he ever made to me." Ben shrugged. "Which I expected him to do."

"President Altaian has managed to put together something of an army,"

Beth said. "The people we left behind as advisors say they're looking pretty good. It's a small force, but growing."

"It isn't growing fast enough," Ben replied. "The NUSA will never have much of an army because the goddamn 186.

liberals will never permit it to grow to any size. And whatever kind of police they finally do put in place will have their hands tied from the git-go." He grimaced. "Probably won't even allow them to carry guns."

Ben's team, including the usually straight-faced Buddy, all had to struggle to hide their grins. To say that Ben Raines had absolutely no use for cry-baby liberals was the same as saying a mule was stubborn.

"So we'll have to go back and clean out the punks and crud again,"

Jersey remarked. "So what else is new?"

"Simon Border and his people, Jersey," Ben replied. "I don't want us to get bogged down in a religious war. That is the absolute last thing I want. But I don't see any way to avoid it."

"Talk about history giving us a black mark," Cooper said. "That will sure do it."

"I'm afraid you're right, Coop," Ben agreed. "Well... let's get our humanitarian work done, and then we'll deal with the Most Reverend Simon Border."

"The word I get is that he'll screw anything that will stand still or lie down long enough," Jersey said. "How the hell can people fall for anything that comes out of the mouth of someone like that?"

Ben laughed. "Oh, Jersey, back before the Great War, there were any number of TV preachers just as bad as Simon Border. The airwaves were filled with them. There was one in particular I used to enjoy watching occasionally."

Buddy's mouth dropped open. "You enjoyed watching him, Father?"

"Oh, sure. Hell, he'd get the spirit and start speaking in strange tongues and doing the heebie-jeebie and the mashed potato and the twist and the slop-bop, jumping all over the stage. He was quite a sight to see."

"Whatever happened to him?" Beth asked.187 "Some husband caught him in bed with both his wife and his 13-year-old daughter and shot him five times in the ass. He survived the shooting, but I don't know what happened to him after that." Ben waited until the laughter had died down. "I did hear that it messed up his dancing somewhat."

Ben didn't believe for a minute that all the criminal element had pulled out of the Northeast. What he did believe was that they were in hiding, lying low until the Rebels passed through. Then they would resurface.

It's not our problem, Ben thought. The citizens can deed with it. And if they don't want to deal with it, then that's their problem.

The Rebels stopped and offered medical treatment to every community who wanted it. If the people were reluctant to accept it, the Rebels moved on without another word. Ben had ordered his people not to discuss politics unless the townspeople brought it up ... and most didn't.

It was so boring and so uneventful that most of the reporters who had been following the various Rebel battalions went back home. While waiting at what was left of an airport for supplies in northern Massachusetts, Mike Richards once more rejoined the column. He had been gone for a month.

"You were right, Ben," the spook said. "Simon Border is preparing for war against us."

Ben sighed. "Why, Mike?"