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“I finally figured out how to open the damn gun-that thing was heavy-and loaded it. I went outside to fire it. Damned thing knocked me down. When I hit the ground the other barrel went off and almost took my foot with it. I decided right then I’d better find me some other kind of gun.

“There were some other shotguns in the rack. I got the smallest one. A 410, it said. Wonderful. Personally I found it all rather confusing. It was smaller than the twelve gauge, but it had a bigger number, so thinking

logically, it should have been more powerful, right? I mean, there’s three hundred and ninety-eight things difference between the two, right?”

Ben was trying desperately to maintain a straight face.

“Go ahead, laugh, you big ox. I know, I know, klutzy little girl from the city trying to figure out how to work guns. But Ben, my parents wouldn’t even let my brother play with toy guns when he was little. Me? I had Ken and Barbie. Fantastic. Really helps a girl prepare for disaster. Doesn’t help you prepare for anything. Ken had been neutered and Barbie didn’t have nothing. It was a big disappointment.

‘The 410 was OK. It kicked, but not much. The keys to a pickup were on the kitchen table. The electricity was still working. I took a long, hot bath. I mean, I was gamy. I washed my clothes, fixed something to eat, and slept in a real bed.

“The dreams were kind of bad.”

She was silent for a few miles, gazing out the window at the barren landscape, at lands that were once among the most productive in all of America.

Gale said, “When I got up the next morning and dressed, I looked out the living room window. There were some guys walking up the gravel road. I loaded both guns and walked out onto the front porch. I just knew bad trouble had found me. The twelve gauge was as big as me. The men laughed at me. I told them to stop and to go away. They laughed and one of them asked me what I was. I told him I was an American. He said that wasn’t what he meant. I knew what he meant. Then he said some things I’d rather not repeat. Finally he said he’d never had any Jew pussy.

“Ben-was she glanced at him, her eyes seeking support

and condonation of what she was about to say-“I got so mad I lost control. I became so angry I didn’t even feel the shotgun kick, and it didn’t knock me down when I fired it. I shot the man right in the stomach. Then I fired the other barrel and hit a man in the leg. There was maybe thirty feet between us. Took his leg off at the knee. Just blew it off. I dropped the big shotgun and grabbed up the 410. I fired both barrels of it. I don’t think I hit anyone, but the other two men were really running up the road. I heard a car or truck start and never saw them again. I went in the house, packed my stuff, and put it in the pickup, along with both shotguns and all the shells I could find. I walked out to where the guys were lying on the ground. One was dead. The other one was bleeding really bad. I vomited on the ground.

“I stood right there and watched that man die, Ben. I felt … I felt lots of things. But Ben, I didn’t feel any pity for him. I… felt like he deserved what I had done to him.”

She sighed heavily, as if the telling had lifted a load from her slender shoulders.

“One of the men had a pistol in a holster, and some bullets for it in loops. I took all those. I got in the pickup and drove off. Kind of. It was one of those four on the floor types. I knocked the whole porch down before I figured how to get the damn thing out of reverse. It was embarrassing.

“I found some people a little while later and they were very nice. They told me they heard St. Louis had blown up. So I headed for Columbia. My parents had friends there that taught at the university. They took me in. There’s a whole lot more, but that’s the high points. Except for this:

“I am tired of running. I am tired of being alone. I am tired of being scared. I do not want to be alone ever again. Do you understand what I am saying, Ben Raines? I mean, really understand it?”

He looked at her and full comprehension passed silently between man and woman.

“Yes, I do,” Ben told her.

“Fine.” She smiled and mischief popped and sparkled in her dark eyes. “Then keep your eyes on the road, Ben. You’re not the best driver I’ve ever ridden with, you know?”

CHAPTER SIX

Ottumwa contained more people than Ben had seen theretofore in any one place. And Ben noticed that most of them were armed, with both side arms and rifles.

He ordered his convoy to a halt and got out to speak with some of the people. He was greeted courteously, if not, at first, warmly.

So spotty were communications throughout America that some of the people did not even know Ben had been in and out of the White House at Richmond.

Ben commented on the highly visible arms.

“Had to go to it,” a man told him. “First those awful things were around-you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Ben nodded. “Mutants.”

“Yeah. Then the IPF came nosing around, spewing that communistic bullshit. We ran them out of town, but they just spread out all around here, all around us. They got a firm hand and hold on Waterloo, conducting classes at the college, and lots of folks are being taken in by that line. But not us.”

“How far up north do they extend?”

“All the way up into Canada, so I hear tell. But it’s a funny-odd-type of communism. Not like the way it was in Russia before the bombings.”

“Yet,” Ben said.

The man smiled. “Yeah. Say, why don’t you folks spend the night here? We have running water, electricity, all the comforts. Well, most of them. We can talk about what to do about the IPF.”

“I’d like that,” Ben said with a smile. He stuck out his hand. The man shook it.

“You’re sure you won’t reconsider and make the move down south with us?” Ben again asked. “Join up with us.”

Dinner had been delicious. The people of Ottumwa had opened up their homes to the Rebels, eager for company and for some news of happenings on the outside. The days of turning on a radio or TV for news and entertainment were long gone… and for many would never return.

The Iowan smiled and shook his head negatively. He refilled their cups with hot tea. Coffee was now almost unknown. The tea was a blend of sassafras root and experimental tea leaves grown in South Carolina and in hot houses.

“I don’t believe so, General. This land around here is still some of the best farm land in the world, and me and the wife have been farming it for some years now. Think we’ll just stay on.”

“And if the IPF returns?” Ben asked. “In force, with force?”

“We do try not to think about that, General Raines.” the man’s wife said. “But we’re not always successful in doing it.”

The farmer said, “If that happens, General Raines, look for us to join you.”

“I’ll stay in contact, try to warn you in time to get out.”

“We’d appreciate that, General.”

“But if you see it coming at you, don’t wait until it’s too late,” Ben cautioned.

“There’s about three hundred of us rebuilding around here,” the man said. “And we’re all armed and know how to use the weapons.”

“The Russians have between five and ten thousand troops,” Ben replied.

The man paled. “Then well have to give your suggestion some heavier consideration, General.”