Fire in the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  “He married?"

  Hector's grin widened and his dark eyes sparkled. “No."

  She glanced up at him. “Why are you grinning at me, Colonel?"

  He shrugged. “No importa, Rosita."

  “Umm,” she replied, as she watched her commanding officer direct the removal of the weapons, most of them still encased in cosmoline, gleaming in grease under the beams of light from heavy lanterns now being placed in the corridor.

  Unknowingly, she half turned toward the east, toward Tennessee.

  * * * *

  General Bill Hazen, once the CG of the 82nd Airborne, another ranking officer who had seen the senselessness of attacking Tri-States and ordered his men out, stood in the rubble of Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, directing the search for weapons, just as he had done at Fort Riley and Schilling AFB. He had encountered very little resistance. And what he had met had been put down brutally by his men, many of whom were paratroopers who had left Tri-States’ battlegrounds with the Old Man, not liking the idea of American fighting American.

  When the old base had been searched, General Hazen pointed the truck convoy east, toward Tennessee.

  * * * *

  In the east, General Krigel was having a fine old time in his searches for weapons. Krigel had been the first ranking officer to refuse to fight in Tri-States.

  * * * *

  The commander of the federal forces, Major General Paul Como, stood listening to Brigadier General Krigel, growing angrier by the second.

  “The bridges around the area been cleared?” Como asked. He knew they had not.

  Krigel cleared his throat. “No, sir. The Navy SEALs have refused to go in. They say they won't fight against fellow Americans. Some of the people in Tri-States were SEALs."

  “I don't give a goddamn what they were! I gave orders for the SEALs to clear those bridges. I ought to have those bastards arrested."

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but I would sure hate to be the person who tried that."

  Como ignored that, fighting to keep his anger under control. He glanced at his watch. “All right, then—the hell with the SEALs. Get the Airborne dropped. It's past time. What's the hangup?"

  “The drop zones have not been laid out."

  “What!"

  “Sir, the Pathfinders went in last night, but they all deserted and joined the Rebels. To a man."

  "What!" Como roared.

  “They refused to lay out the DZs. Sir, they said they won't fight fellow Americans, and anyone who would is a traitor."

  “Goddamnit!” Como yelled. He pointed a finger at Krigel. “You get the Airborne up and dropped. Start and push—right now. You get those fucking Rangers spearheading."

  Krigel shifted his jump-booted feet. The moment he had been dreading. “We ... have a problem, sir. Quite a number of the residents of the Tri-States ... were ... ah—"

  “Paratroopers, Rangers, Marines, Air Force personnel.” The CG finished it for him. “Wonderful. How many are not going to follow my orders?"

  Krigel gave it to him flatly. “About fifty percent of the Airborne have refused to go in. No Rangers, no Green Berets, no SEALs. About thirty percent of the Marines and regular infantry refuse to go in. They said, they'd storm the gates of hell for you, with only a mouthful of spit to fight with, but they say these people are Americans, and they haven't done anything wrong. They are not criminals."

  The news came as no surprise to General Como. He had discussed this operation with General Russell, during the planning stages, and Como had almost resigned and retired. But General Russell had talked him out of it. Como was not happy with it, but he was a professional soldier, and he had his orders.

  Krigel said, “General, this is a civilian problem. It's not ours. Those people in there are Americans. They just want to be left alone. They are not in collusion with any foreign power, and they are not attempting to overthrow the government. Paul,”—he put his hand on his friend's shoulder—“I still get sick at my stomach thinking about those Indians. Granted, we didn't do those things, but we were in command of the men who did—some of them. It was wrong, and we should have been men enough to have those responsible for those ... acts shot!"

  General Como felt his guts churn; his breakfast lay heavy and undigested. He knew well what his friend was going through; and Krigel was his friend. Classmates at the Point. But an order was an order.

  Como pulled himself erect. When he spoke, his voice was hard. “You're a soldier, General Krigel, and you'll obey orders, or by God, I'll—"

  “You'll do what?” Krigel snapped, losing his temper. “Goddamn it, Paul, we're creating another civil war. And you know it. Yes, I'm a soldier, and a damned good one. But by God, I'm an American first. This is a nation of free people, Paul? The hell it is! Those people in the Tri-States may have different ideas, but—"

  "Goddamn you!" Como shouted. “Don't you dare argue with me. You get your troopers up and dropped—now, or they won't be your troopers. General Krigel, I am making that a direct order."

  “No, sir,” Kigel said, a calmness and finality in his voice. “I will not obey that order.” He removed his pistol from leather and handed it to General Como. “I'm through, Paul—that's it."

  General Como, red-faced and trembling, looked at the .45 in his hand, then backhanded his friend with his other hand. Blood trickled from Krigel's mouth. Krigel did not move.

  Como turned to a sergeant major, who had stood impassively by throughout the exchange between the generals. “Sergeant Major, I want this man placed under arrest. If he attempts to resist, use whatever force is necessary to subdue him. Understood?” He gave the sergeant major Krigel's .45.

  The sergeant major gripped General Krigel's arm and nodded. He didn't like the order just given him. He'd been a member of a LRRP team in ‘Nam—back when he was a young buck—and the idea of special troops fighting special troops didn't set well with him. American fighting American was wrong, no matter how you cut it.

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant major said, but was thinking: just let me get General Krigel out of this area and by God, we'll both link up with Raines's Rebels. Us, and a bunch of other men.

  General Como turned to his aide, Captain Shaw. “Tell General Hazen he is now in command of the 82nd. Get his troopers dropped. Those that won't go, have them arrested. If they resist, shoot them. Tell General Cruger to get his Marines across those borders. Start it—right now!"

  Shaw nodded his understanding, if not his agreement. The young captain was career military, and he had his orders, just as he was sure Raines's people had theirs.

  “Yes, sir.” He walked away. “Right away, sir."

  General Como blinked rapidly several times. He was very close to tears, and then he was crying, the tears running down his tanned cheeks. “Goddamn it,” he whispered. “What a fucking lash-up."

  * * * *

  “You all right, General?” an aide inquired.

  Krigel shook his head to clear away the fog of memories. He brought himself to the present with a visible effort. Como had been killed on the tenth day of the fighting in the Tri-States; killed by a little girl with a .45-caliber pistol.

  Ironic, Krigel thought. Como had spent several years in ‘Nam. No desk-soldier, Como spent as much time in the field with his men as possible. Hadn't gotten a scratch.

  “Sir?” the aide persisted.

  “What? Oh ... yes, Captain. I'm fine,” Krigel curved his mouth into a smile. “I was ... lost in memories for a time."

  “The Tri-States, sir?"

  “Yes. You were there, too, weren't you, Van?"

  “Yes, sir. For eight days. I ... walked away from my unit on the morning of the ninth day. Couldn't take any more of it. That ... raping got to me."

  “And the torture?"

  “I wasn't a part of that, sir, and neither were any of my men. But I saw what was left of a woman after some ... guys got through with her. I don't think I'll ever forget it."

  “No,” Krigel sealed the stateme
nt. “No, you won't, Van. I saw some of it in ‘Nam—done by Americans. You don't forget it—you just learn to live with it."

  “Yes, sir. I was kinda hopin’ you'd say you eventually forget it."

  “I wish,” the general said, accompanying that with a sigh. “Everything loaded, Van?"

  “Yes, sir. Ready to roll."

  “All right. We'll cut southwest through Ohio until we pick up Interstate 75 at Cincinnati. We'll stay on that most of the way into the mountains. That's where we'll link up with Ben."

  “You know General Raines, sir?"

  Several officers and enlisted personnel had gathered around.

  “Yes, I do, Van. Not well, but I know him."

  “What kind of man is he, sir?"

  Krigel thought about that for a moment. “He was a Hell Hound in ‘Nam. Then he was a mercenary in Africa for a few years. But not of the stripe of Hartline; more a soldier of fortune type. Ben ... is a dreamer, a visionary, a revolutionary. He's a planner; a man who believes in as much freedom as possible for the law-abiding citizen. Ben Raines is ... quite a man."

  * * * *

  “Ben is a very complicated man,” Jerre said to Doctor Canale. “A lot of people ask me about him; I never know exactly what to say to them."

  “You miss him, don't you?"

  “I'd be lying if I said no."

  “Well, you're going to have your hands full in a few months, Jerre. It's definitely twins."

  “A boy and a girl,” Jerre said with a smile.

  “I won't guess on that,” Canale grinned.

  “That isn't a guess. I know."

  The doctor did not argue. He had long ago given up arguing with pregnant women.

  Jerre dressed and thanked the doctor. He winked at her and said to see him in a few weeks. A young man in his late twenties stood up when Jerre left the office, entering the waiting room.

  He smiled at her. “How'd it go, Jerre?"

  “I'm in great shape, Matt. Well,” she grinned, “at least my physical condition is good. I'm beginning to waddle like a duck."

  “You're beautiful,” he said somberly.

  “And you're nuts!” she laughed at him, taking his arm and walking outside with him. “Oh, Matt—I can't tell you how surprised I was to see you. And how glad. I heard you'd been killed in the last days of the invasion on Tri-States."

  He helped her into an old VW bug. “It got pretty close and scary there for a time.” He got under the wheel, cranked the old bug, and pulled away from the curb. “But a few of us managed to slip across the border into Canada. Then we got orders to set up a base in Northern California. And ... here I am."

  “No steady girl, Matt?"

  “You know better, Jerre. You're the only girl I ever wanted."

  She touched his arm. “I never meant to hurt you, Matt. Please believe that."

  “Oh, I do, Jerre. You laid it right on the line from the first night we ... I mean..."

  “I know what you mean, Matt."

  They were silent until they pulled into the drive of a home set overlooking the Pacific, just north of Crescent City. He helped her into the house (she was always amused at his overprotectiveness) and into a chair.

  She had to laugh at him. “Matt, I'm not at death's door; I'm going to have a couple of babies, that's all."

  “Scary business, Jerre. Spooks me,” he admitted. “I'm a big chicken when it comes to stuff like that."

  “We're only a few miles from the clinic, so quit worrying. You're making me nervous."

  He knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. “Jerre..."

  She shushed him with a genuine kiss. “Don't say it Matt—not yet. You know how I feel about Ben."

  “Then ...?"

  “I had to, Matt. I had to let go. Ben has a mission; I'm not sure even he knows it—or will admit it—but he does, and I just couldn't be a drag on him. It wouldn't be fair to a lot of people."

  “And me, Jerre?"

  “You know how I feel about you, Matt."

  “But you love General Raines?"

  “Yes. And always will, Matt. Let's be honest this time around, too."

  He grinned at her. “I'll just wait then, Jerre. And I'll wait with you—if you don't mind."

  “I don't mind,” she said softly. “I don't mind at all."

  * * * *

  “If you were ten years younger, I'd whip your ass,” Ben said to Doctor Chase.

  “You can't reach that far,” the doctor fired back over the radio. “Not from Tennessee to Wyoming. Besides, she made me promise not to tell you."

  “Why did she do it, Lamar?"

  “I ... really don't know, Ben,” the doctor lied. “I guess she just wanted some time to herself."

  “I think she wanted to find some nice young man her own age. Hell, I'm twenty-five years older than Jerre."

  Age has nothing to do with love and affection, you crazy gun-soldier, Chase thought. But if it's easier for you to believe that, have at it. “That may be it, Ben."

  “That young man she used to see—Matt something-or-another, he's out there. Yeah, that's it. Well ... I hope she's happy. God knows the kid deserves it."

  To be as smart as you are, Raines, you don't know jackshit about women. “Doctor Canale's a good man, Ben, runs a fine clinic. Jerre will be all right. We intercepted one of Ramos's transmissions; set on the same scrambler frequency. I like your plan, Ben."

  “I think it's the only way, Lamar. The people have to get involved. We can't do it all for them. Hell, I won't do it all for them."

  “We're moving to link up with Ramos in a few weeks, Ben. You know the plan—I'll see you on target."

  Ben grinned. “Watch your blood pressure, old man. It's tough taking care of a woman young enough to be your granddaughter."

  “What! How ...?"

  Ben signed off, leaving Doctor Chase bellowing into a cold mike. He turned just as Ike walked into the communications tent. Ben's second-in-command wore a funny expression on his face.

  “Ike."

  “Ben ... you ‘member that female reporter on NBC; that one you always said you'd like to strangle for her liberal views?"

  “Roanna Hickman. Yes. What about her?"

  “She just pranced her ass up to our easternmost outpost. Says she wants to do a story on you—for broadcast."

  Ben looked at him for a few seconds. “Well, I'll be goddamned."

  “Probably,” Ike agreed. “But let's not get into that."

  Nine

  The word went out from the Joint Chiefs of Staff to all base commanders: Order all personnel to keep a low profile when off base. No interference with Ben Raines's Rebels unless the men are provoked. This is a fight between Lowry and Raines. Stay out of it.

  The message was intercepted by Al Cody's people. Cody went straight to VP Lowry. He tossed the decoded message on the VP's desk and sat down.

  “It's all in the open now, Weston. No more playing pitty-pat."

  VP Lowry read the message and then pushed it from him. “Fuck the military. We don't need them. Hartline is beefing up his men to the tune of a hundred a day. The intelligence reports we've received all state that Raines won't make a move before the first of the year—at the earliest. By that time Hartline will have a full division under his command. Maybe more than that. Raines is helping destroy himself and doesn't even know it. The bastard is stupid."

  Cody shook his head. “Don't ever think that, Weston. Raines may be a lot of things; stupid is not one of them. He's got something up his sleeve."

  But Lowry would only shake his head. “He's too confident in the people. Oh, they've had their little victories in the towns around the mountain base of Raines. But that is because Raines's main force is so near. Let him play his game—it just gives us more time. Hartline's plan is working.” The VP giggled. He clicked on a Betamax. “You never saw this, did you?"

  “Saw what?"

  “Sabra Olivier sucking Hartline's pecker."

  “You've got to be kidd
ing!"

  “Watch."

  Al Cody watched with a sick sort of sensation in his stomach. He was solidly opposed to this type of filth ... but still, he felt himself becoming sexually aroused at the sight. He glanced at Lowry. The VP was rubbing his crotch, a tiny bit of spittle had gathered at the corner of his mouth and his eyes were ... odd-looking.

  Cody closed his eyes and willed his slight erection to go away. It's for the good of the people, he reminded himself. All this ... perversion is for the good of the entire nation.

  The end will justify the means, he thought. Got to keep that thought in mind. The end must justify the means. Who said that? Hell, I don't know!

  “Come on, baby,” Hartline's rough voice cut into Cody's thoughts. “We're almost there."

  It's all for the good of the people. Cody kept that thought.

  “Don't tell me you're not gettin’ your rocks, too, Sabra-honey..."

  The good of the people. Raines must be stopped...

  “...you're slick as 10W40."

  ...by any means possible. And if that entails something as...

  “You're not shivering from the cold, Sabra-honey. It's..."

  ...disgusting as this is, then so be it. This nation must...

  “...just that you like my cock, right, baby?"

  ...endure.

  “Ah—that's good, Sabra."

  Must endure.

  “How'd you like to mount that from behind, Al?"

  “What?"

  Cody opened his eyes just as Lowry was turning up the lights, turning off the Betamax.

  “She's still a good-looking piece of ass, isn't she?"

  “Yes,” Cody sighed. “Yes, she is, Weston."

  For the good of the nation.

  “I think I'll ask Hartline if he'll..."

  Cody swallowed hard.

  “...bring Sabra to me. We can use the retreat. I like women in..."

  We? Good God, does he think I want a part of this filth? I couldn't do...

  “...their forties. All that maturity. And did you see those tits—the way her nipples..."

  ...anything like that! I was raised in the church. I...

  “...stuck out. God! that turned me on, Al. You and I—I'll get Hartline to get you that blonde-headed reporter that you..."

  ...just couldn't do anything like that. Disgusting! It's...