Rockabilly Limbo by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-10-11T04:00:00+00:00

Four

The electricity was still working and the women immediately hit the showers and bathtubs in the motel on the edge of town for a long, hot soak.

By mid-afternoon, Scott Frey and George Steckler had been choppered in and were meeting with the militia people.

“This is just one small victory, guys,” Bob told them. “Ely has a very large force, and they’re all over the state. I’d guess that nationally, ten million or so people subscribe to his philosophy of government. Probably more than that. And they’ll fight, boys. Believe that. They’ve been preparing for this for years.”

Scott left the room and got on the radio, scramble-net. He returned a few moments later. “The President and the Joint Chiefs want to meet with you, too, Colonel Robbins.”

Bob hesitated for a moment. “All right,” he said. “But I won’t go unarmed and nobody is taking my weapons from me. If this is a trap, we’re all going to get bloody.”

“Goddamnit, Colonel,” Scott lost his temper. “The entire nation has been turned upside down—”

Bob held up a hand for calm. “Easy, Agent Frey. I’m on your side, remember. But before this . . . trouble, the government was giving guys like me a hard time. No more of it. Things aren’t ever going to be the way they used to be. You can count on that.” He paused and stared at the FBI man for a moment. “But I think you already know that, don’t you?”

Scott returned the silent stare, then turned to go. He stopped and faced the militiaman. “No guns around the President. And I mean that.”

Bob smiled.

* * *

They were helicoptered to the McGee Tyson Airport outside Knoxville, the only civilian airport in the state still fully operational. National Guard and militia members had kept the airport functioning during the worst of the fighting. There, Cole and Katti, Hank and Bev, and Jim and Bob Robbins, along with Scott Frey and George Steckler, boarded an Air Force jet for the trip to Andrews Air Force Base.

“We’re getting the VIP treatment,” Cole said. “This is one of the president’s fleet.”

In addition to the people who got on in Knoxville, there were several Secret Service people on board.

“What’s the matter?” Bob asked with a grin. “Don’t you people trust me?”

The Secret Service did not see the humor in his remark.

“Can anybody tell me what’s happened out in L.A.?” Jim asked. “I’ve got some friends out there.”

“Are you kidding?” one of the Secret Service people said. “L.A. blew up during the first seventy-two hours.” The agent sat down on the armrest of the seat across the aisle from Jim. “Wait until you see D.C. It’s still smoking.”

“According to the news, and then when that went dark, the shortwave, every city in America blew up. What’s the death count?”

“God only knows,” the agent replied. “I’d guess several million.”

“How many people like Brother Ely Worthingham have popped up?”

“Hundreds. And several hundred men like your friend, Bob Robbins.”

“Bob’s all right. He’s not some wild-eyed radical. Some of his views are to the right, but so are mine.

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