Read Online Blood in the Ashes by William W. Johnstone - Free Book Online Page B

Ben.”
    â€œI don’t think so,” Ben said, unruffled at her condemnation. “Gale, there were many of us over the years—before the bombings—who saw all this coming. We wrote about it; we yelled about it; we talked ourselves blue in the face advocating compulsory military training. Nothing came of it. I defy you, Gale—I challenge you to find one man in that bunch of losers who ever did time in a hard military unit. Odds of you finding one are very, very slim, my dear. And I challenge to find one, just one hard-line conservative in that pack of rags. I challenge you to find just one person, male or female, who practiced—before the wars—the art of survivalism. You won’t find one, Gale.”
    She sat silently. It was at moments like these she experienced pangs of dislike for Ben, overriding her true feelings for him. No one likes to be told they are wrong. And Gale was no exception. What made it so bitter-tasting was the fact that she knew Ben was right.
    â€œHoney, people who shared my feelings—male and female—beat their heads against the wall, verbally speaking, against the creeping cancer of liberalism. We tried to tell people in positions of power not to bend to the misguided whims of those pressure groups who favored gun control—for criminals wanted gun control. All gun control did was work in favor of the lawless and against the law-abiding citizens. We saw it all coming. We were laughed at and ridiculed.
    â€œSo-called comic movies and TV shows were made, belittling and ridiculing those who even slightly practiced any type of survivalism. It was all great fun, Gale. See the funny people stockpiling food and weapons and other survival gear. Big joke. The nation’s press showed us as ignorant buffoons and nuts. We expected that, since the national press was controlled and run by liberals. Print and broadcast. But we did try, Gale.”
    Ben sighed. “And we were laughed at. Probably by some of those very people right over there.” He pointed. “Those sad, sorry, naive bitches and bastards called us right-wingers, fascists, war-mongers, to mention only a few of the titles that were hung on us. We were laughed at, insulted, belittled and humiliated. The press had a field day with us. And you want me to feel sorry for those sacks of shit over there, Gale? No way, dear. Just no damned way!”
    Totally liberated woman that she was, free-spirited and quick to speak her mind, Gale remained silent for this round, for she knew the ring of truth when she heard it. Like many reconstructed liberals, the truth had reached up and boxed her ears too many times for her to ignore it.
    Ben pulled off the highway and drove up to a clump of unwashed citizens.
    â€œWho is in charge here?” he asked.
    â€œNobody in charge,” a man said. “I don’t take orders from no one. Who are you people?”
    Ben bit back an impulse to tell the man they were Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. In drag. “If no one is in charge, how in the hell does anything ever get done?”
    â€œWhat is there to get done?” the man challenged Ben. “We’re getting by. Isn’t that all that matters?”
    â€œBeautiful,” Ben muttered. “What a bunch of losers.” He raised his voice to a normal speaking level. “All right, tell me this: How are you people living?”
    â€œStill lots of canned food left. We scrap around. What business is it of yours?”
    Ben’s eyes found a small knot of ragged and dirty kids, most of them very young, standing in a weed-filled lot, staring at the uniformed Rebels. “Where are the parents of those kids?”
    â€œWho the hell knows,” the man said with a shrug. “They’re street kids. You see lots of them around. Damn nuisance is what they are.”
    Gale stirred beside Ben. He cut his eyes at her. She was getting angry and reaching that state very quickly.
    Ben got