“You bet it is. But that isn’t a problem in the SUSA. We all think pretty much the same on the major issues. We don’t want to run another nation’s business. But voting on major issues has been a problem in the USA for decades. . . a growing one. Look up there ahead of us. A damn roadblock.”
“That’s a big county school over to the right. Something’s happened at the school. See the lights from the police cars?”
Ben pulled in behind a mini-van and stopped. The line of cars and trucks ahead of the mini-van was already long. Ben glanced in his rearview mirror: the traffic behind him was backed up. He was pinned in. That was not a feeling Ben liked. He stirred restlessly behind the wheel.
“Relax,” Sandi said. “I see an ambulance over at the school. It’s got nothing to do with us.”
A woman came walking back to the mini-van from the direction of the roadblock and walked up to the car, passenger side.
“A kid brought a pistol on the bus with him this morning. Can you imagine that. A pistol! He was going to shoot one of his teachers.”
“Did he say he was going to shoot a teacher?” Sandi asked.
“Well, no,” the red-faced, highly agitated woman replied. “But why else would he bring a pistol to school? I mean, pistols are outlawed here . . . finally. Not even adults are allowed to own pistols. You know that!”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Sandi said, cutting her eyes to Ben, who was smiling. She felt she knew what he was thinking: Sandi was one of the federal agents who used to kick in the door of any American citizen who dared defy the federal ban on pistols . . . back before the Great War.
“Don’t say a word, Ben,” she whispered as the woman standing on the side of the road rattled on about guns. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.”
“My lips are sealed, ex-fed,” Ben replied.
“It wasn’t a real gun!” a man yelled from several cars up the line. “It was a toy pistol.”
“They killed him!” a woman shouted from the car just ahead of the mini-van. “They shot the boy dead.”
“Well, it was the boy’s fault,” said the woman standing by the side of the road. “Toy guns have been banned for several months now. He shouldn’t have brought one to school. It’s all his fault. And his parents’ fault.”
“If only one boy was shot, ask why there are several ambulances at the school,” Ben whispered.
Sandi didn’t have to ask. Before she could open her mouth, the woman at the car ahead of the mini shouted, “The police shot three boys who ran to help the first boy. My God!”
“Were they carrying toy pistols, too?” Ben asked.
The two women standing by the road were shouting at each other angrily and moving closer to each other. For a minute Ben thought the women might tie up in a fight.
“Oh, to hell with you, fatso!” the second woman yelled. “The damn pistol was orange! It was a water pistol!”
“It still looked like a real gun!” the woman standing by Ben’s car shouted. “And don’t call me fatso, you skinny bitch!”
“An orange pistol, you lardass?” the other woman yelled. “Bullshit!”
“I wonder if those two ladies know each other.” Ben whispered. “I’ll bet they do.”
“Lardass?” the slightly overweight lady hollered. “Well, fuck you, Sally!”
“Yep,” Ben said. “They know each other.”
“Real close friends, too,” Sandi said.
“Oh, I’m sure.”
A heavyset man in a black uniform walked up. “All right! You women be quiet. Stop shouting and cussing each other and get back in your cars.”
“The state police,” Sandi said, “but part of their salary is paid by the government. They’re really a branch of the FPPS.”
“The Federal Protection and Prevention Service,” Ben muttered.
“You’re almost right,” Sandi said. “It’s Prevention and Protection.”
“Whatever.”
“You can go to hell, too, Ralph,” Sally yelled. “You damn communist!”
“Well, now,” Ben said, sitting up straighter behind the wheel. “There might be hope for the USA yet. Where there is one with the courage to call it like it is, there will probably be more.”
“If she doesn’t shut up she’s gonna get arrested.”
“Ralph is not a communist,” the woman standing by Ben’s car bellowed. “He’s a brave man doing a fine and thankless job.”
“They’re both about half right,” Sandi remarked. “There are still some cops who don’t like their new designation and job description. I don’t know if Ralph is one of those or not.”
“Shit!” Sally shouted sarcastically. “He’s a damn bully boy, that’s what he is!”
“You’d better shut that mouth of yours, Sally,” the state cop yelled.
“What are you gonna do, Ralph?” Sally challenged. “Arrest me for having an opinion?” Before Ralph could reply, she added, “Oh, well, now! Here comes the head honcho of the state bully boys. Get ready to kiss his ass, Ralph, you gutless punk!”
Another voice was added. “Take that woman’s name.” A tall slender man in a black uniform walked up.
“I know her name, Gene,” Ralph said. “She’s got a big mouth, that’s all.”
“Now, by God, you’ll see who runs things around here, you whore!” the woman by Ben’s car yelled.
“Be quiet, Bertha!” Ralph hollered.
“Whore?” Sally yelled. “You screw every secret police agent who will stick a dick in you, and you call me a whore? You goddamn informer!”
“Arrest that woman!” the tall man in the black uniform shouted. “I want to question her.”
Sandi cut her eyes to Ben. “Now you see firsthand how things have deteriorated.”
“How dare you speak to me in such a manner!” Bertha yelled. “You damn . . . Republican!”
“Now that is really an insult,” Sandi said. “Any member of what used to be known as the Republican Party is suspect by the New Left and the FPPS.”
“The Republican Party no longer exists?”
“Sort of, but not really. Not always by that name. It’s called the New Right now . . . among other names. But very few dare to openly join it. It’s a subversive organization.”
“Oh, really,” Ben replied, his voice filled with scorn. “The USA has certainly gone to shit in more ways than one, hasn’t it?” He glanced at her. “The Republican Party is still around?”
“A few brave souls still register as Republicans, but damn few. As I said, you get listed as a subversive when you do.”
Ben shook his head in disbelief, but knew Sandi was telling the truth. The ambulances were pulling out of the parking lot, Sally was being led off by the state police for questioning, presumably for calling someone an informer, or for pointing one out in public. Ben wasn’t sure. He dropped the shift lever into drive and pulled out behind the mini-van.
“You blame me—I mean hold me responsible in some way—for what has happened in this country, Ben?”
“Why not? You were sure as hell part of the ‘investigate anyone who dares to say anything critical about the government’ crowd. How many doors did you help kick in, Sandi? How many taxpaying citizens did you help roust in the middle of the night? How many firearms did you take from law-abiding people? Hell, yes, you were a part of it. And after the Great War and the collapse, when the nation was rebuilding, you went right back with the feds and started doing the same damn thing, all over again.”
“I can’t deny it. You’re right, I did.”
“Now you’ve had a change of heart, right?”
“Oh, not entirely. I still don’t agree a hundred percent with the philosophy of the SUSA, and never will.”
“Hell, very few people living in the SUSA do agree a hundred percent. But they live with the laws they don’t entirely agree with because they have created a better society. . . for us. We’re easing back on some of our laws and rules. And we’ll probably ease back on a
few more as time goes by. But the so-called harsh punishment we have for criminals, our gun laws—such as they are—our educational system, which is completely different from anything found up here in this fucked up place, to name just a few things about the SUSA, those will never be compromised. Never, not as long as I live.”
“Unless the SUSA reaches some sort of agreement with the USA, there’s going to be a terrible war between the two nations. Is that what you want?”
“That’s the last thing I want. President Jefferys has made that very clear, time and again. But every time some sort of agreement is reached the left wing takes over up here, and reasonable leaders are driven out of office and replaced by people like Osterman and Millard. What are we to do, Sandi?”
They rode in silence for several miles before Sandi replied. “Nothing can be worked out, Ben?”
“Nothing. And we have tried.”
“Up here, the official word is that you want war. That you turn down every offer of peace this administration suggests.”
“We do turn it down, but we don’t want war. The offers they make are ridiculous, amounting to nothing more than surrender for us. That isn’t going to happen.”
“Then there is going to be a war.” Her statement was flat, devoid of feeling.
“I’m afraid so. I don’t see any way to avoid it.”
“Then I’d better make up my mind and pick a side and stay with it, right?”
“I thought you’d already done that, Sandi. Did you change your mind?”
She smiled, rather sadly Ben thought, but he didn’t have to wonder much about that . . . he was sure she was still working for the government. “Oh, I’m not going to turn you in,” she said. “Rest easy and put that thought out of your mind. I wanted to hear some words from you, not the official party line out of the capital in Indiana or the official line from the SUSA. Do I support the SUSA? Not entirely. But I’m certainly leaning more toward the SUSA than the USA . . . at least as long as Osterman and her crowd remain in control.”
Damn liar. “From the looks of things, so far as I’ve seen, that is going to be a long, long time.”
“Unfortunately, you’re probably right about that. So I don’t have much choice in picking a side, do I?”
“Not if you enjoy freedom.”
She nodded her head. “OK.” She pointed. “Hang a right at this intersection up ahead. That’ll take us into Indiana, and there are no checkpoints to worry with.”
“Sandi, you’ve never told me where you believe Anna is being held.”
“I know for a fact the FPPS is still using our old safe houses around the capital. It’s going to be a process of elimination, that’s all.”
“And when we find her, there’s going to be some killing. Are you ready for that?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not if you stay with me.”
“There again, Ben, I don’t seem to have much of a choice. The USA’s not offering its citizens a democracy, but then, neither is the SUSA. However, while the SUSA believes in a small central government and maximum freedom for its citizens, with everyone taking total responsibility for his or her own actions, the USA believes in a large and intrusive government and offers, the barest minimum of freedom for its citizens. The USA is going right back to a very complicated tax code, just like the one used before the collapse and the Great War. The SUSA’s tax code is simple and, I believe, the fairer of the two. So my side is your side, and let the chips fall where they may. But I have to warn you that when this is all over and the smoke clears—by that I mean Osterman and Millard out of power—I will support the USA. This country can’t survive separation.”
“All right, Sandi. We each know where the other stands. I can work under those rules. Now let’s go get my kid.”
Sixteen
Ben and Sandi checked into a motel—adjoining rooms—on the outskirts of Indianapolis in the middle of the afternoon. After stowing their luggage and seeing to their personal needs, Sandi joined Ben in his room, sitting down in the desk chair.
“So how far are we from the first of these safe houses?” Ben asked.
“We’re about half a mile from one. It’s a warehouse. One of the few buildings you people left standing,” she added with a faint smile. “But the city has made an astounding recovery, as has much of the USA. Nothing like you people in the SUSA, of course. Or so I’ve heard.”
“It’s because we all were single-minded about rebuilding, Sandi. Twelve and fourteen hour days—during the spring and summer—were common.
“And no unions to get in your way.”
“That’s not entirely true. But do you think unions up here are going to last very long, or have any real power under a socialistic form of government if they do?”
She shook her head.
“Well, labor got what they wanted. After a total collapse and several years of anarchy, damned if they didn’t go right back voting for the left wing.”
“Not all of them.”
Ben held up a hand. “Let’s talk about this safe house. We can discuss politics later.”
She nodded and unfolded a recent map of the city. She pointed to a road. “It’s right here. On the left side, about midway.”
“All right. Let’s go check it out.”
She touched his arm. “Are you armed, Ben? Other than that pistol?”
He stared at her for a moment. The woman just wouldn’t quit. To his way of thinking, she had given herself away a dozen times already. All right, he’d play her game awhile longer. “What are we going up against?”
“Automatic weapons, both wheel and semi-automatic pistols.”
“No rocket launchers or .50 caliber machine guns?” Ben asked, only slightly sarcastic.
“You really don’t trust me, do you?”
Sandi’s blue eyes were a bit chilly as they locked onto his gaze, Ben thought. But . . . why not? She was playing a dangerous and deadly game. “Not entirely,” he leveled with her. “I’ve yet to see just what you’ll do when the chips are down and the play is dirty.”
“I guess that’s fair. I’d probably feel the same way.”
“Let’s go to work.”
“You didn’t answer my question about being armed.”
He smiled. “No. I didn’t, did I?”
They drove slowly past the big warehouse. There was a truck parked by a side-loading dock. No other vehicles in sight.
“Not a very busy place,” Ben remarked.
“Not now. But it is a working warehouse for government material. Living quarters are in the rear. Behind the storeroom. It’s heated and air-conditioned. Fully equipped kitchen, bathroom with shower, two bedrooms.”
“All the comforts of home. Soundproofed?”
“Sure.”
“So no one can hear the screaming of those being questioned?”
“We never tortured anyone, Ben. The interrogation might have gotten very intense, but there was never any physical torture.”
“If you say so. Are there cameras monitoring the outside?”
“Not when we used it. I can’t say about now.”
“Well, just in case there are, we’d better not drive around it again. You think Anna is being held here?”
“There’s a chance she is, yes. It’s just going to be a process of elimination for us. Checking out all the places I know of.”
“And she might not be in any of them.”
“That’s a possibility. And if she isn’t, then what?”
“I find an FPPS agent and get the information from him.”
“That might not be as easy as you think. I’ll be the first to admit these FPPS guys are bully boys for the most part, but you’d better remember that most of them are as tough as a boot. Keep that in mind.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re right, Sandi. But I’ve found that people can take one finger being hacked off, but once the second finger is sawed or cut off, most folks suddenly tend to be rather cooperative.”
Sandi s
tared at him and then shuddered. “I hope you’re kidding, Ben.”
“I’m not. This is my kid we’re talking about. And there had damn well better not be a mark on her.”
Sandi said, “Before you brought that up, I was going to suggest we have an early supper.”
“That’s a good idea. Tell the truth I am a bit hungry. You know a place?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Turn up here at this next light. To the right.”
“Is the food edible?”
“It’s not bad. A little on the bland side, but it’s good for you. Healthy.” She smiled at Ben’s sudden grimace.
“So are the field rations our scientists have concocted. But they still taste like sheep shit smells.”
“You have such a subtle way of putting things.”
“I know. That’s me. Tactful.”
“Answer a question for me?”
“If I can.”
“The SUSA has a universal health plan, right?”
“Of sorts, yes. No citizen is denied medical treatment, if that’s what you mean.” He cut his eyes briefly to her. “That’s a strange thing to ask at this time.”
“I was curious about how you pay for it.”
Ben turned on the street she had pointed out before replying. “The government of the United States handed out hundreds of millions of dollars a year, every year, to countries who didn’t have the foggiest notion of how to spend it wisely, or just flat out didn’t deserve it. Your government funded the most asinine of programs in history. . . with taxpayer money. Many of those programs were miserable failures. Worse yet, they didn’t have a chance of working from the outset. Your government spent billions on pork barrel projects—roads that went nowhere, bridges that weren’t needed. That list is practically endless. Most members of congress—in my opinion—were a bunch of assholes who took great delight in spending taxpayer money and raising taxes in the most under-the-table, devious manner they could dream up, and they were plenty inventive when it came to fucking the American public out of their money. We don’t do any of those things in the SUSA. So we can take that money and spend it on things that really matter. Our criminal justice system is nothing like the old one. That had a stranglehold on both the innocent and the victim while giving the criminal all sorts of rights and legal loopholes. And in addition it cost the taxpayers billions and billions of dollars every year. It costs us billions and billions of dollars less. That’s just part of how we do it, Sandi.”
Hatred in the Ashes Page 15
